Falling Away With You
by Twinchester Angel
Summary: Sam is going to say yes to Lucifer tomorrow. The brothers spend the night flashing back through their lives together and trying to find a way to say goodbye. Wincest.
1. Chapter 1

_I can't remember when it was good_

_moments of happiness elude_

_maybe I just misunderstood_

**_May 1983_**

"Now remember, Dean, Mommy is really tired so we can't stay long."

Dean was skip-hopping along the shiny floor of the hospital, holding onto his dad's hand. He was going to meet his baby brother for the first time. His baby brother. That's what his dad said. Dean had seen babies before, in a stroller at the park that his mom took him to and in a restaurant highchair, throwing food all over the place. Dean never cared either way for those babies. They were usually loud and messy. But none of those babies were his. Sammy belonged to him.

"But I get to see Sammy, right Daddy?"

"Of course you do. But you have to be good, Dean. No loud noises. Babies get scared at loud noises."

Dean looked up at his dad and frowned; his lower lip poking out in a pout. He wasn't dumb. He wasn't going to do anything to scare his baby brother. They came up to a closed door when his dad stopped.

"Ok, Deano, we're here. Now remember what I said."

"I remember, Daddy. No loud noises. No whining. No jumping around."

"Ok, then. Here we go."

Dean reached up for the doorknob at the same time his dad did. He could hardly contain his excitement. He had a tickly fluttering feeling in his tummy. His baby brother. His Sammy.

The door opened and the first thing he saw was his mom, sitting up in a really cool hospital bed with all kinds of buttons on the side. All of a sudden he really wanted to go push all those buttons and see what they did. Dad's hand on his shoulder stopped that train of thought instantly, though. Instead, he ran over to his mom, trying to jump up on her bed but before he made it, his dad's arms swooped around his middle and lifted him up to rest against his dad's hip. And that's when he saw him. Sammy. He wasn't exactly what Dean was expecting. He was wrapped up so tight in a light blue blanket that he was shaped like a large peanut with his pink wrinkled face peeking out through the top. His squinty little eyes were closed and his mouth was moving like he was sucking on something even though there wasn't anything there. Dean was a little afraid because his baby brother was kind of funny looking.

Mom looked at Dean with a big, bright smile on her face. Dean just knew his mom was the prettiest mom in the world. "Hey, angel! What do you think about your baby brother?"

Dean frowned a little while he thought about that question.

"Does he have any hair?"

His parents giggled at that but it was a serious question. His head was all covered up and Dean couldn't tell.

"Well, of course he does, Dean. Not very much though. It's more like fuzz than anything else. But before you know it, he'll have a lot of hair just like you do," Mom answered as she reached over to muss up Dean's hair.

"Is he gonna wake up soon?"

"Babies are pretty tired for a while after they're born, but don't you worry. He'll be awake all the time, real soon."

"But I need to talk to him."

"Dean, he can't talk and he can't understand what you say. Not yet, anyway. That'll be one of your jobs as a big brother. To teach him all kinds of things, like how to talk."

"But I still need to talk to him. He doesn't hafta talk. He can just listen."

Dad set Dean down on the bed next to his mom.

"You wanna hold him, Dean? Only for a second? You have to be really careful but I'll help you."

Dean didn't even answer his dad. Just held out his arms and waited. Dad carefully lifted the bundle from his mom's arms and placed it into Dean's, keeping his own big hands under the baby, as well.

"I can do it, Daddy. I'm a big boy."

"I know you are, Dean. I'm just gonna help you hold his head up, okay?"

"Okay," Dean replied, not really minding because he finally had his baby brother in his arms and it was such a great feeling. Dean knew what love was. He loved Mommy and Daddy. He loved Power Rangers. He loved pie. He loved cool cars and his racetrack at home in his bedroom. He loved it when Daddy would read him stories before bed. And now he knew that he loved Sammy. It was at that moment that Sam started to make really funny grunting sounds and his squinty eyes started to slowly peel open to gaze up at Dean. He couldn't tell if Sammy was really seeing him because his eyes still seemed stuck shut in some spots and they were kinda crossed but Dean was pretty sure he could. So he put his one free hand into Sammy's blanket and pulled out his arm, wiggling his pointer finger into Sam's tiny fingers that were clamped shut. "Look, Daddy! Sammy's holding my finger!"

"He sure is, Deano. He's lookin' at you, too."

"Yeah," Dean answered breathily, kind of in awe at this pretty cool little lump in his lap. "Hi, Sammy. I'm Dean. I'm your big brother. I'm gonna teach you everything. I just learned how to tie my shoes and I know you can't do that yet, but you'll be able to as soon as I show you how. And I'm gonna show you all the good toys and all the good food and I'm gonna teach you how to play and we can race each other in the back yard and..."

Just then, Sam's face started to wrinkle up and his grunting started to become a little more squeaky and he was making loud sniffling sounds through his nose.

"Alright Deano, Sammy's probably getting a little hungry. I think he needs Mommy now."

"One more second, Daddy. Okay, Sammy. I'm gonna give you back to Mommy now. But don't forget me, okay? I'm your big brother and I'm gonna be right over there. You know, if you need me."

Mom giggled a little and Dad placed Sam back in her arms but Dean just watched his brother - couldn't take his eyes off him. Dean may have only been four and a half years old, but he knew without a doubt that Sammy heard what he said and somehow understood him. And Dean was serious. He would wait right here for when Sammy needed him because he kinda figured that's what big brothers do. Plus, his arms already felt empty and he couldn't wait to hold his baby brother again.

_**May, 2010**_

The passenger door of the Impala slams shut and Dean finds himself watching his brother run into the office to get a room. This will be the last motel room they ever stay in together and Dean has to fight back the traitorous tears that are threatening to spill over. How the hell can this possibly be happening?

_"So I gotta ask, Dean. What exactly are you afraid of? Losin'? Or losin' your brother?"_

Bobby's question has been replaying in Dean's head over and over for the past few days. The answer is a no-brainer as far as Dean is concerned. The biggest shit of the deal, though, is that he's going to lose his brother either way. But this? Something must have seriously misfired in his brain for him to go along with this.

Logically, he knows Sam is a grown man, a skilled hunter, a capable human being, but he's still Sammy. He's still Dean's little brother. And he meant it when he said that it was Sam's decision and that he was on board with his stupid plan, but that doesn't make it any easier. It's been a rough couple years for them, sure, but that'll all seem like a piece of cake compared to what they'll go through if this plan actually works. Dean understands that Sam feels an obligation to do whatever it takes to cram Satan back in his box, and as the big brother, he wants to be supportive. Okay, he doesn't _want _to be supportive, not of this anyway, but he is going to be. He's going to do whatever he can to show Sam that he respects his decision and that he trusts him - has faith in him. No matter how fucking painful it is.

But that other shit Sam was going on about in the car? Dean doesn't know how Sam could ask that of him. How was Dean supposed to just leave Sam in that literal Hell hole forever? The only reason Dean decided to go along with this is because he knew in the back of his mind that he could maybe pull some strings or find something – anything – that would get Sam back. He'd sell his soul again if he had to. Although, Sam must've seen that coming because he stopped Dean cold before he could even think up a plan. Dean's teeth grind together just thinking about what Sam said. That crap about having barbeques and living some normal apple-pie life? While Sam is...he can't be serious. It's like he doesn't know Dean at all.

_**March, 1985**_

Dean kneeled on the floor, playing with the Legos he got for his 6th birthday while Sammy stood in front of the TV, dancing around to some cartoon song. His baby brother wasn't quite 2 years old yet but he was pretty smart already. He bounced and hummed and blurted out every sixth word along with the song. They'd seen this one a million times. John stood in the kitchenette, talking in hushed tones on the phone and peeking his head out at them every few minutes.

"Sammy, move. I can't see the TV."

Sam would move over a few steps but his bouncing kept swaying him back in front of the screen.

"Sammy! Move!"

"Shhh!" John hissed from the kitchen.

"Yes sir," Dean grumbled but then harshly whispered, "Sammy, move!"

Again, Sam moved over a few steps and again, after a minute, he was back in front of the TV. Dean got up and grabbed Sam around the middle, causing him to giggle. He picked the wiggling toddler up, carried him over and dropped him on the couch. Then he squatted back down and continued playing with his Legos. He looked over at Sam who barely seemed to even notice the change in his location. He got up on his knees on the couch and started bouncing his butt against his heels.

"You're such a weird kid, Sammy," Dean chuckled and shook his head before focusing back on the spaceship he was building.

"Dee!" Sam shouted through laughter and Dean glanced over to see his brother standing on the couch, fingers from one chubby, dimpled hand crammed into his mouth and jumping up and down to the music.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, and then quickly looked over to kitchen before lowering his voice to a whisper. "Sammy, get down! You're gonna get hurt!"

Sam popped his drooly fingers out of his mouth and whisper-yelled "No!" before stuffing his fingers back in his mouth. Dean scowled. 'No' was Sam's favorite word ever.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam's foot slip off the couch and before he could jump up and catch him, Sammy went tumbling face first off the couch, head cracking on the coffee table.

Dean scrambled over to his brother on the floor and propped him up into a sitting position. He looked stunned for the first few seconds and Dean thought maybe everything would be okay.

He thought too soon.

Sam looked up at Dean and all of a sudden his face crumpled, his big eyes filled with tears, his mouth screwed up tight and his lips and chin started to wiggle. Dean instantly tugged his little brother into a hug and started patting his back.

"You're okay. You'll be fine, Sammy. Okay?" Dean tried consoling him in a cheerful tone like Dad taught him but Sam just threw his head back and started wailing.

"Shhhh, Sammy. Dad's on the phone. Please stop crying. I'll fix it, okay? It's not that bad. I'll take care of you. Okay, Sammy?"

But Sam wasn't okay. Dean held Sam back to survey the damage and saw a big bump already starting to form on his forehead, the surrounding skin all red and blotchy. And he just kept bawling. Dean held his brother against him again, rubbing his hand in circles on his back, rocking him back and forth, trying to calm him down. "Shhh, c'mon, Sammy. It's gonna be okay."

That's when John stomped into the room. "What's going on in here?! Dean? What happened?"

"Sammy fell, Dad. He hit his head." Dean scootched back on the floor and let his Dad get a closer look at Sam.

"I told you to watch him!"

"I was watching him! It happened so fast. I couldn't catch him in time."

Dad knelt down and scanned Sam from head to toe, feeling around the bump on his head.

"It's okay, kiddo. You're gonna be okay. If the bump is on the outside, then it's not on the inside. That means you're gonna be fine." John petted Sam's head once, then got back up and looked at Dean.

"Listen buddy, I gotta call this person back. It's very important. Watch your brother a little closer, alright? I need you to try and keep him quiet. And in one piece, please."

"Yes sir."

John ruffled Dean's hair and then went back to the kitchen. Dean looked back at Sam who was hiccupping around the fingers he had shoved back into his mouth, his hand covered in tears, snot, and drool. He had big fat tears on his cheeks and if there was anything Dean hated most in this world, it was seeing his baby brother cry.

"C'mon, little brother. No more crying. You know what happens to little boys who cry, don't you?"

Sammy shook his head as another tear spilled out of his eye. Dean kneed forward towards Sam and whispered conspiratorially, "They get tickled!" And he crammed his head into Sammy's round little belly and started tickling his sides. Sam giggled a little, in between hiccups, which encouraged Dean. He tickled harder and Sam doubled over, laughing a little louder. Dean looked up at Sam and smiled. "See? I told you I'd make it better, Sammy." And then he kept on tickling because the sound of Sammy laughing was the best sound in the whole world.

_**May, 2010**_

"Dean." Cas's gravelly tone sounding from the back seat startles Dean from his memories. _"Dean."_

"What?!" Dean snaps and then immediately feels guilty. He clears his throat and repeats in a much calmer voice. "What is it, Cas?"

"Where um, where should I...I am sure you and Sam have much to discuss tonight."

"Huh? Oh yeah, well, uh...maybe Bobby..."

"I am sure he will understand," Cas answers with a nod but still, he just sits there. Dean is so not in the mood for the discussion he knows is coming. The silence in the car is deafening, yet he knows he is going to regret breaking it.

"Cas?" Dean reluctantly asks as he raises an eyebrow into the rearview mirror angled at the angel, well, human, in the backseat.

"Yes."

Dean rolls his eyes. "If you've got something to say, just spit it out, would ya?"

Cas remains silent for a moment and only when Dean lets out an aggravated sigh, does he finally speak up.

"What your brother is attempting...it...it isn't possible."

"I don't believe this," Dean mumbles frustratingly, running his hand down his face before glaring in the rear view mirror. "Cas, you said it wasn't a bad plan!"

"You misunderstand me. It is not possible for anyone _but _Sam. I understand you are struggling with this but I truly believe he can succeed. Dean, think of what this could mean for him."

"Yeah, I know better than anybody what it'll mean for him, Cas."

"No, I mean he will finally have the redemption he's been desperately seeking for years."

Dean whirls around in his seat to finally face Cas and the ridiculous bullshit that's spewing out of his mouth. "Redemption? Are you fuckin' joking?" Dean bites out with a sarcastic laugh.

"Dean..."

"No great. Really. That's...terrific. So he's redeemed and then gets to spend eternity in the cage. Yeah that's...that's freakin' wonderful. You know what? Get out, Cas. Go find Bobby. See you in the morning." Dean waves his hand at the door in dismissal.

Cas takes the hint and opens the door but then stops again and says, "Dean."

Dean sighs and looks up at the ceiling of the car, thinking for at least the billionth time in the past two years about how he's absolutely correct in believing all supernatural beings, angels and demons, especially, love to hear the sound of their own voices. And just to further prove him right, Cas continues.

"I have been observing you and your brother for a long time and I have always noticed your propensity to put him first. You want what is best for him even if it is not what is best for you. You are a good brother, Dean. You should be proud of yourself. And you should be proud of Sam."

With that, Cas gets out of the car and goes to join Bobby, who is just exiting the hotel office, having gotten himself his own room for the night.

"Easy for you to say," Dean grumbles to himself before slamming his hand down on the steering wheel. Good brother. Right.

Just then, Dean sees Sam exit the office and head back towards the car. They're staying in some dump in Waukegan, just north of Chicago. They have to drive the rest of the way to Detroit tomorrow and need to get a good night sleep, which would be a laughable concept if Dean had any ability in him to laugh. But Cas is right. He just wants these last few hours alone with his brother. The rest of the world be damned. Which it is, actually. That's pretty much the problem.

With a creak, the door opens and Sam climbs back in. Dean sees him out of the corner of his eye just sitting there staring at him. He can feel the air getting thick with tension and he just can't do this. He has to stop Sam before he begins because if Sam starts talking about feelings and shit, Dean's going to completely break down. And it won't be pretty.

"Room?"

"Huh? Oh, room 27. Around the back."

Dean shifts the car into drive and pulls around the building. Sam turns his head to glance in the backseat and then looks back over at Dean.

"Where's Cas?"

"Went with Bobby. I think he felt like he was intruding on brother bonding time or something."

"Wow. That was...really...thoughtful. I guess. God, it's weird to see him acting so human."

"Yeah, well, pretty much everything about that guy is weird, so... Here we are. Grab your shit."

They get out, walk around to the trunk and start grabbing their duffels and a few weapons. Just in case. Dean looks over and notices Bobby unloading the trunk of his car that's parked a few doors down.

"'Night boys. Don't stay up all night. Gotta get an early start." Bobby stands there looking in their direction for a few seconds before finally heading into his room with Castiel.

"Right," Dean answers, while Sam hefts his bag over his shoulder and heads for the room. Dean scans the trunk one last time to make sure they have everything they need when his eyes fall on the jugs of blood in the corner. Demon blood. For Sam. Jesus.

_**August, 1987**_

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

"Dean, look!"

"That's great, Sammy."

"You're not even lookin'."

Dean looked up from his comic book and there was 4-year-old Sammy, hair sticking up all over, one leg of his sweatpants shoved up to his knee, one dingy threadbare white sock hanging half off his left foot and one navy blue sock that almost looked too small on his right, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sweatshirt all smeared with grape jelly, and the biggest smile on his round dimpled face.

"I made sammiches, Dean! All by m'self." He looked so proud.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Wow, Sammy, you _really_ didn't have to do that. And I see you dressed yourself too, huh squirt?"

Sam stumbled a little, while excitedly scurrying toward Dean but managed to keep the pile of sandwiches on the plate. He plunked it down on the coffee table and then climbed belly first onto the couch before flopping around and sitting upright next to Dean. At first, Dean cringed, thinking about all the jelly Sam just smeared all over the couch when climbing up but when he looked down and saw the proud look on Sam's face, he just shook his head while breathing out a laugh.

"I take it we're having peanut butter and jelly?"

Sam nodded enthusiastically and then reached a sticky hand up to push his hair back off his forehead.

"Mmhmm. N'you get'a have the first one."

Dean grabbed the top sandwich, which was globbed with way too much peanut butter, took a bite and mmmm'd like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"Pretty good cooking, little brother."

"I knowed how 'cause I watched you," Sam proclaimed around a mouthful of the sticky food. "Now I can help you sometimes."

_**May, 2010**_

"Dean? You need help with something?"

Dean blinks a few times, noticing Sam standing in the door to their motel room, holding it open and waiting for Dean to come in.

He slams the trunk against the blood and the memories, heaves a huge sigh and walks to the room feeling like a man on death row walking to his meaningless, inevitable end. Sam moves aside as Dean enters, shutting the door behind him and wondering if he should even bother with the salt lines tonight. There's nothing to keep out that's more terrifying than what they're facing tomorrow. Actually, considering what's going to happen in Detroit, he'd _rather_ they both die tonight. Sam clears his throat and looks up at him.

"Dean, I know, man. I mean, I'd ask what's up with you but...you know I have to do this, right? And look, I know this is hard for you...I do, but...I _have_ to...I just...c'mere."

Dean searches his brother's face. He looks so sad. He knows Sam is scared shitless but the sadness, well, that's the real kicker. Sam is sad _for_ Dean. He's worried about _Dean_.

Looking at Sam standing there, arms outstretched, puppy eyes boring into him and penetrating his fucking soul - he can't do this. It probably doesn't matter what's going to happen tomorrow, doesn't even matter what he promised Sam, because at this moment, Dean's pretty sure he isn't going to survive the night. He's starting to feel like there's no air in the room, like he can't catch his breath and he's starting to shake. His heart is breaking and it's definitely going to kill him. In fact, Dean's praying it will. Quickly. He doesn't want to live anymore. There couldn't possibly be any life for him after this.

"C'mon, Dean. Please?"

_**October, 1995**_

"Please, Dean?"

"No way, man. Dad would have my ass!"

"Yeah, like he's gonna find out. He's never here," Sam mumbled petulantly. "I just wanna try it once."

"No, Sam. End of discussion."

"You were driving when you were twelve."

"Yeah, only when Dad was too hurt or too unconscious to drive."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Too unconscious, Dean?"

"Bite me. You know what I meant."

"Come on. I promise I'll go slow. I'll do whatever you say. Besides, what happens if you and Dad both get hurt, huh? What if neither of you are able to drive? What if you're both too unconscious?" Sam momentarily grinned proudly at his own lame joke but then continued pleading his case. "Do you really want my first time behind the wheel to be when I'm all scared and nervous about my dad and brother bleeding out?"

"God, you're such a drama queen, Samantha."

"Am not! I'm being serious. And practical. In fact, I bet Dad would think I'm right. This should be part of my training. You've trained me to fight, to throw knives. Hell, you've trained me to shoot. This isn't any more dangerous than any of that."

"Nice arguments, Matlock, but the answer's still no."

Sam started to roll his eyes but then stopped as if an idea suddenly came to him. Dean could see what he wass planning before he even didit. Shit. Dean's screwed. He almost didn't look but couldn't help himself as Sam's face relaxed and his eyes slowly softened and opened a little more and then there they were. The puppy eyes; Dean's biggest weakness.

"Please, Dean?"

_**May, 2010**_

"Dean?"

He looks up at Sam with a sigh and starts walking past him towards his bag.

"I gotta lay the salt lines. You can have first shower."

"Dean, don't do this. Please. You can't...don't shut me out. Not tonight. I mean, this is it, man."

"You think I don't know that?!" Dean snaps. Sam visibly flinches and Dean instantly feels guilty but he can't help it coming out like that. He's pissed. He's beyond pissed. Only...not at Sam. He's pissed at the angels. He's pissed at God. He's pissed at himself. His whole life has been about protecting Sam; keeping him safe. And he's been a miserable failure at it for as long as he can remember. And this? Standing by and watching his little brother take on Lucifer? That's the ultimate failure. But Sam's right. This is it. He can't waste a single minute; especially not yelling at Sam. Then he remembers how few minutes he actually has left with Sam and breaks out in a cold sweat. He drops his head down, his chin resting on his chest, a shaky thumb and finger squeezing the bridge of his nose. "M'sorry. I just...I don't know if I can handle this."

"Yeah, well, I know I can't. Not without you. So just...forget about the salt. Forget the shower. I need _you_. Please."

And there's no way Dean can refuse that. He slowly shuffles towards Sam, his feet dragging, feeling like they each weigh 50 pounds. He stops in front of his brother and Sam lifts his hand up to stroke Dean's cheek, his thumb scratching back and forth over the slight stubble before grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug. Dean goes willingly – like he could stop himself now – and wraps his arms around his brother, digging his fingers into Sam's back so hard, he's afraid they're going to sink right in. He buries his head into Sam's neck and feels the dam break. The tears are flowing and Sam is kissing his temple, rubbing his hands up and down his back, whispering 'thank you' over and over into Dean's hair.

_**October, 1997**_

"Thanks, Dean. Really. I mean, I know this isn't exactly your thing but I couldn't do it without your help."

"No big deal, Sammy. Let's just do this so we can move on to bigger and better things."

"It's Sam. And since when is crap take-out and fuzzy black-and-white TV 'bigger and better things'?"

"Since you asked me to help you study, _Sammy_."

"Jerk," Sam mumbled, as he closed his book and pushed it aside.

"Bitch," Dean replied automatically, as if it was a reflex.

Sam huffed. "Whatever. Ok, now, just read the questions I've written out. You can read Spanish, right? Just in case, I've got the translations right there."

"Ahh Sammy," Dean smirked, "you know this is all just geek to me."

"C'mon, Dean, I've really gotta do well on this test." Sam practically whined, in, much to Dean's amusement, obvious agitation.

"What's the big deal? It's Freshman Spanish. It's not like you're ever gonna need it. Besides, your chances of acing it have to be pretty high, considering the huge-ass brain you're sportin' inside that giant head of yours. Not to mention, Dad's been having us read foreign languages since you were 12."

"Yeah, well, this isn't just memorizing spells and exorcisms, Dean. It's for school. It's conversing in complete sentences and verb conjugations and –"

Dean snorted a laugh. "God, you are such a nerd." He shook his head fondly and not for the first time marveled over how they could possibly be related as Sam just kept blathering on.

"– we've only been here two weeks and I can't afford to get a bad grade. So please? Can you just –"

Dean held his hands up in mock defense. "Alright, alright. But after this, we are watching movies and stuffing our faces like normal people."

"Yeah right. Normal. Dean, you wouldn't know normal if it came up and smacked you in the ass."

"Oh Sammy, you say that like it's a bad thing. Okay, ready?"

"Yeah." And then Sam gave him a grin. "Thanks, Dean."

_**May, 2010**_

"Don't. Don't thank me, Sammy. I can't...I...just don't." His voice is raspy and thick with emotion and he just stands there, crumpled in Sam's arms, crying quietly and not caring in the slightest about appearing less than manly.

Sam kisses the top of his head before pulling back, hands in a loose grip around Dean's arms while rubbing them up and down. "I know you don't wanna hear it, but...it really means a lot to me that you're backing me up on this. I just want you to know that."

Dean looks up at Sam and by the sad look of understanding and empathy that Sam is currently aiming at him, he knows the hopelessness and fear he's feeling is written all over his face. He suddenly feels a surge of defensiveness rush through him for a moment, because why the hell shouldn't he feel hopeless? Detroit. They were on their way to fucking Detroit. _"Heavyweight showdown in Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it." _The sound of his future self's cold, emotionless voice echoes in his ears and then morphs into Lucifer's version of Sam._ "No matter what you do, no matter what details you alter, we will always end up...here." _Son of a bitch.

Dean roughly runs his hand down his face, scrubbing the tears away before resting his hand on his mouth. "God, this is...this is so hard. How am I..." Dean sniffles, clears his throat, and slowly heads towards the bathroom. "I'm just gonna get ready for bed."

"Dean, wait,." Sam quietly whispers and Dean slowly turns back around to face his brother. "There's just...there's something else I gotta say."

Dean's pretty sure there's nothing else Sam could say at this point that won't make him completely lose what little shred of sanity he's clinging to, but he just stands there waiting. He idly thinks about how that son of a bitch, Famine, couldn't have been more wrong about him – he feels this pain more vividly than he's ever felt anything before – as Sam appears to be working up the courage to say whatever it is he's going to say.

"If this doesn't work –"

"It's gonna work, Sam." And it will. How could it not? Heaven, Hell, and everyfuckingthing in between seem determined to rip his little brother away from him. Then the vision of his brother all in white, that fucking smug smirk and his voice dripping with patronizing sympathy, violates Dean's thoughts again for a second and he slams his eyes shut against the wave of nausea threatening him.

"But if it doesn't, Dean, you have to promise me..."

Dean scoffs, eyes opening and locking with Sam's liquid pleading eyes.

"...that you'll get the hell outta there. No matter what."

"Absolutely not." He's not even going to pretend considering this one. No way is he letting Sam go alone. Not with Lucifer riding him. He'd rather die first. He _will _die first.

Sam throws his arms out to the side exasperatedly. "So then what? Huh? I'm serious, man. I will _not_ let him use me to kill you."

"Sam...if you think for one second that I'm leaving you alone with him while you're not in control, you're fucking crazier than I thought. No way in...just, no way, alright? Jesus." Dean turns around again, facing away from Sam, staring down at the filthy carpet.

"You..." Sam blurts out, roughly combing both hands through his hair and taking a long deep breath. "I get it. Okay? I do. And I'm grateful you wanna protect me but...but c'mon, there's no reason both of us have to die, here!"

Dean sadly shakes his head, still gazing down at the floor, a twisted, completely unhappy smile on his face. "You're kidding, right? You've gotta be kidding, because I _know_ you know better than that, Sam. I mean, I don't wanna go all DiCaprio on you here, but 'you die, I die' and there's no changing that."

"That's just..." Sam shakes his head, clearly frustrated, but Dean couldn't give two shits.

"What?"

"That's stupid. I thought we had all this squared away already. What happened to 'if this is what you want then I'll back your play'? Huh? What happened to it not being up to you to _let_ me do anything?"

"I'm not telling you what to do or what not to do. I'm telling you what I'm not gonna do. And I'm not leaving you, Sam. I won't do it," Dean explains with a shrug.

"Dean, either we go into this together or we don't go in at all."

Dean turns around quickly and lifts his arms out at his sides. "Great. Problem solved. I'll just call Bobby and Cas and tell 'em we're not goin'."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"So am I!" Dean grits his teeth, trying to stamp down the frustration that's boiling up inside him. "Look, I've promised you way more than I'm comfortable with already but I'm not giving in on this one, Sam. So if you can't live with that, then we better just come up with a plan B."

"There is no plan –" Sam explodes, but seemingly catches himself quickly, running his hand down his face, letting out a deep sigh and walking slowly towards Dean, one hand reaching out to grab Dean's hand. "Look, I know I've asked you for a lot. And I know this isn't easy for you..."

Dean snorts because, understatement, but he lets Sam continue because as much as Dean would like to believe he's going to get out of this on a technicality, he knows it's not happening.

"...and Dean, I am so sorry. I'm sorry that everything I've done has led us here and now you're going to be the one left behind. I would give anything...anything to take all this back. But I can't. This has to be done and it has to be me."

Dean looks down to where their hands are joined, where Sam is holding his hand with one of his, while running his fingers of the other over the top of them.

Sam lets out a sad sigh and adds, "But I have to be focused. I'm scared, man. I'm really, really scared. And mostly, I'm scared for you. I don't want you getting hurt if I fail."

Dean squints up at his brother like he's lost his damn mind. Because obviously he has. What Sam just said is so far past stupid that Dean doesn't have the slightest idea what to say. So he says what he always says when he has no other words.

"Sam..."

"C'mon, just...just promise me you'll think about it, alright? If this thing goes sideways and there's nothing you can do, just please, _please_ get away, Dean. For me?" Sam then reaches up and cups Dean's face and Dean feels nauseous all over again.

Everything he felt all those times he lost Sam before are all compounding together and threatening to crush him under their weight. He reaches up to place his hand on Sam's face in a mirror image of his brother and their eyes lock. It's completely overwhelming. This couldn't be more agonizing, and he suddenly finds himself nostalgic for hellhounds, because at least _that_ was a quick death.

But then Sam leans in and slowly runs his lips over Dean's. It's dry and their lips drag against each other but it's the most soul-deep kiss Dean has ever felt. Because he suddenly remembers again for the millionth time tonight that this is it. He runs his hand up Sam's arm and clenches his bicep, squeezing so hard it hurts his fingers. He doesn't want to let go. Doesn't ever want to let go. He reaches up and grasps the back of Sam's neck, pushing their mouths even closer together, both of them moaning, breathing heavily, muttering words of 'love' and 'please' into each other's mouths.

_**March, 1999**_

Dean slammed open the bedroom door of their current shack of the week and saw Sam sitting on the edge of his bed facing away towards the window. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the hell just happened, but he couldn't not know either.

His brother had just kissed him. His innocent baby brother just laid one on him and there was nothing innocent about it.

Dean had honestly never thought of Sam that way. Why the hell would he have? He was his fucking brother. But then again, now that it happened, no way was he ever going to forget what it felt like. Even more disturbing was the fact that he had been half hard since it happened. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

Ignore it, that's what. Ignore it because that's what was best for Sam.

"Sammy..."

"Go away, Dean."

"Yeah, I don't think so. You mind telling me what the hell that was back there?"

"Come on, Dean. You really need me to explain it to you? Trust me, I've seen enough to know that you're not exactly inexperienced. I've seen enough to want to gouge my eyes out, actually."

And why did that last sentence, muttered miserably from Sam's mouth, suddenly make Dean feel guilty? Sam was his brother, for Christ's sake. He was more than his brother. He was his best friend. And more often than not, Sam was like a son to Dean. So many lines crossed for so many years, and now Dean was actually shocked that this line being crossed doesn't shock him nearly as much as it should. He was running that crazy-ass thought over and over in his head when Sam's soft voice interrupted him.

Thank God.

"Dean, I know exactly how messed up this is; how messed up I am, but I can't help it. And I can't control it. I'm not sure I even want to."

Sam was so quiet, Dean had to strain to hear him. He just sat there on his bed, looking down at his lap and picked at a hangnail. Dean tried to understand what Sam was saying but it was all so insane, and frighteningly _not_ insane at the same time. So much so, that it made Dean's head spin. It was like one of those dogs who were so goddamn ugly, they were the cutest thing ever. Or a scary movie that was so gory it made you laugh your ass off.

That kiss was so very wrong; so not something that should have ever happened, and yet it felt so perfect that Dean found himself wanting it to happen over and over again.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Dean knew it was weak but in his defense, he was so confused he couldn't see straight. What the hell was the matter with him? He got hard from his baby brother sticking his tongue in his mouth. If there was a Hell, and Dean's seen sufficient evidence that there was, he definitely just booked a one-way ticket there. You'd think that would have scared him away from this fucked up thing he was feeling, but then Sam turned around to face him and it took Dean's breath away. He was so young. He looked so tired, so weary, so...world-wise at 15, and it broke Dean's heart. All Dean ever wanted was for Sam to be a kid with a semi-normal life, as normal as it could possibly get for them.

But this? This wasn't normal. It terrified Dean because he _wanted_ to fight Sam on this, protect him from it, but at the same time, his brain kept replaying that kiss over and over again in his mind. And God help him, he didn't want it to stop. But then Sam's eyes looked up into his and it felt like a stab to the heart.

Sam looked at Dean like he was some kind of fucking hero, but how could Dean possibly _save_ either of them from this? Especially when he didn't want to. Sam's eyes were filled with tears and one finally spilled over and ran down his cheek.

"Dean, I love you. I...I think I'm in love with you."

_**May, 2010**_

Sam is moaning into Dean's mouth, "God, Dean…love you so much. I need you."

Over and over and over in a prayer-like chant and it just spurs Dean on. His hands are everywhere. They're touching every part of Sam and still it isn't enough. Dean pulls Sam's shirt apart, splitting buttons from fabric, shoving his hands up the t-shirt underneath and feeling the warm skin over his muscular breath-heaving chest. He can't get close enough. He pulls at Sam's shirt and Sam twists and wiggles, letting his outer shirt drop to the floor before Dean is shoving his t-shirt up, bunching it up towards his neck and armpits until they're forced to separate while Dean pulls it over Sam's head, only to reconnect again before the shirt actually hits the floor.

Whenever they do this, sometimes it's slow, sometimes frantic, sometimes angry, most of the times loving; but always, always it is never enough for Dean. He can never get enough of Sam. It's like Dean wants to crawl inside of him and stay there forever. It's a noticeable throbbing ache that can never possibly be soothed. Dean pulls back for just a moment, staring up and down from Sam's face down to his stomach and back up again. He leans in and kisses up Sam's neck, gently kissing and nipping his way back to his mouth. He covers Sam's lips with his own and they're both very still. It's unbelievably quiet except for the matching thrum of their heartbeats, but then Dean suddenly crashes head first into the realization that after tonight, his heart will forever be beating alone.

A sob that barely sounds human tears out of him as he grabs the sides of Sam's face and dives back into Sam's mouth again, licking and kissing like there's no tomorrow – God, if only.

He walks them both until Sam's back hits the wall and he lets out an "ooof" and then everything stops again. Dean's mouth on Sam's, Sam's hands on Dean's face, Dean's hands tangled in Sam's hair. They stop moving and just breathe into each other's mouths; eyes closed against the reality of what's happening. Dean reluctantly moves from Sam's mouth and slumps down, burying his face in Sam's warm comforting chest and with a long sad sigh, whimpers, "Please...Sammy, don't leave me."


	2. Chapter 2

_all of the love we left behind_

_watching the flash backs intertwine_

_memories I will never find_

_**August, 2001**_

Misty rain flashed in the beams of the Impala's headlights as Dean drove slowly up and down the streets of the podunk, piece-of-shit town they were currently "living" in. There were only so many roads Sam could be on and Dean would find him if it took all night.

Sam was leaving – for good – the stubborn bastard. And Dad made sure Sam knew that coming back wasn't an option; the even more stubborn bastard. Sometimes Dean didn't know why he bothered with either of them. Why the Hell did they have to fight all the goddamn time? And Stanford, of all places.

Dean knew Sam had been applying to colleges and he had to give his little brother credit for at least making a half-assed effort to hide it. Maybe Dean was in some serious denial here, but he honestly never thought Sam would actually go. Hell, Sam probably wouldn't have if Dad hadn't practically double dog dared him to walk out the fucking door. Neither one of them ever gave in, and Dean always ended up being the one left trying to knock some sense into them. But he had an incredibly sinking feeling that he wouldn't be able to get through to either one of them this time. They both said some horrible shit to each other and those scars wouldn't be healing any time soon. He honestly didn't know what he was going to do when he found Sam; punch him or beg him to stay.

Just as he turned the corner, he saw him. His soaking wet, stupid son-of-a-bitch little brother just stomping down the sidewalk like a petulant little brat; backpack and duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Dean could only see the back of his head, but he'd bet good money, Sam was sporting the bitchiest of all bitch-faces right now.

Dean pulled the Impala around with a screech to block the end of the sidewalk, and for a moment, Sam stopped and looked around like he was weighing his options and figuring out the best direction to make a run for it. But then Dean saw him take a deep breath and stride purposefully towards him, all cocky and sure of himself. Dean leaned over and rolled down the passenger window to yell for Sam, and fuck, it was cold outside.

"Get in the car! You're gonna catch pneumonia out there!"

"Go home, Dean."

"You're smart enough to score a full ride to a place like Stanford and you can't figure out that's not gonna happen?"

Sam whipped his arms out to the side and held them there in a clear stand of defiance. "What the hell do you want, Dean?!"

"I want you to get in the goddamn car, Sam!"

"Well, I'm not gonna! I'm done, man. I'm leaving, okay? So don't even try to talk me out of it. Dad doesn't want me here, and I don't want to be here, so I don't see what the problem is!"

And that was just _it_. Dean got out of the car so fast he surprised even himself. Because seriously? Sam didn't see what the problem was? He slammed the door, stormed around the car and stood about a foot in front Sam.

"You don't...you're fucking unbelievable, you know that? You ungrateful, spiteful little brat."

"Yeah, I'm the ungrateful one. I'm just trying to make a better life for myself, hell, any life for myself. I didn't ask for one fucking thing but that man's blessing, and he couldn't even give me that. I've been working my fucking ass off since I was six and by some miracle got into one of the best colleges in the country with a full fuckin' ride, and he just kicked me out on my ass and told me to never come back – like getting into a good college is something people should be arrested for! But no, _you're_ right. _I'm_ the ungrateful one."

"Do you even hear yourself, man? Were you in the same house I was a few minutes ago? You basically accused Dad of child abuse! Yeah, the guy's a little rough around the edges –" Sam interrupted with a snort, which Dean completely ignored. "– but caring more about revenge than us? Having no business being a father? I mean, come on, Sam. You can't really believe that."

Sam just stared back at Dean, eyebrows raised, making perfectly clear that he did, in fact, mean every word.

"You said searching for Mom's killer was pointless and a waste of time."

"Yeah, I did."

Dean couldn't believe the lack of feeling in his usually sensitive little brother's voice. "You said Mom would be ashamed of him."

"Yep," Sam replied shortly, sniffling and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his brown hoodie.

"You don't say that shit to Dad! You shouldn't say that shit period, you shouldn't even think it! And y'know what, we both know this is about more than just Dad."

"Yeah, you're right. It's about me and finally having a chance for a normal fucking life. I'm sorry if that seems selfish to you, Dean, but I think I deserve it. I've worked really hard for this. Besides, it's no more selfish than you and Dad trying to keep me here just because you have some screwed-up idea of what family should owe each other!"

"I know you've worked hard, Sammy. I do. But we _are_ your family. You can't just run out on us!"

"Yeah, well, he didn't leave me any other option," Sam stated pointedly.

Dean heaved a sigh, suppressing a shiver because seriously, it was really cold. "Okay, fine. Forget about Dad for a minute. What about us? Huh? How could you just walk away from me like that, Sam? I thought we were…fuck, I don't know."

Finally Sam's eyes softened and he stepped closer to Dean. "Dean, I'm not leaving you. It's not...I'm not running away; I'm running _towards_ something, something I've always wanted. Something I can't have if I stay here. Don't you get that? It isn't about you. It never was. And I..." Sam breathed out a sigh and then added, "Come with me."

Dean took a step back in surprise. He couldn't have heard that right.

"Excuse me?"

But Sam kept advancing. He must've actually thought Dean would go along with this.

"You heard me. Come on, you could be so much more than this, Dean. You're so much smarter than you think you are, man. You deserve more than this life."

"You can't be serious."

"I can't?"

Dean looked up at the sky in exasperation. "I don't believe this. First of all, you know I can't leave Dad. And secondly, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Sam, I'm a hunter. It's all I know. It's what I want to be. I'm good at it."

"I know you are, Dean, but come on, man. Don't you have any dreams? Don't you want something more?"

"More than what? More than making the world safer? More than helping people?"

"More than getting killed before you've even had a chance to live! Do you know what the average life expectancy is for a hunter? You...I can't stand seeing you hurt all the damn time. I just...I don't want to lose you."

"Yeah? You got a real funny way of showing it," Dean answered, flicking the strap of Sam's duffel.

Sam rolled his eyes and let out an entirely unamused chuckle. "I'm not gonna stand here and go round and round with you. I love you, Dean. You're my brother and I want you to be safe. Come with me. We can do anything we want. We can _be_ anything we want, together. But I can't stay here. I can't live this life anymore."

"Sam..." Dean had absolutely no control of the situation and he hated feeling out of control, especially where Sam was concerned. Yes, he felt Sam was being selfish, but then again, he had always wanted more for Sam; always wanted something better for him. For as long as he could remember, Dean did everything he could to shield Sam from the true horrors of this life. He always did what he could to make sure Sam had everything he needed and even some of the things that he wanted. Dean was pretty sure Sam didn't even know about half the things Dean had done and sacrificed to give Sam even the little bit of normal he already had. And that's the way Dean wanted it. So he really shouldn't be surprised that Sam was jumping at this chance. It was just the way he was leaving – running away at night and all the bad feelings between Sam and Dad – it wasn't right. He shouldn't leave right now, not like this. Dean felt like there had to be something he could do, something he could say to make Sam see reason, but then Sam spoke again and dashed all of Dean's hope.

"I'm leaving, Dean. You just gotta decide if I'm leaving alone."

Dean dragged his hand down his face, trying to calm himself. He couldn't believe Sam was dumping this on him now. He couldn't leave Dad all alone; couldn't just abandon him. But losing Sammy? The thought made him want to throw up. He didn't want to lose Sam, but if he guilted him into staying, that's exactly what would happen.

"So what, you gonna walk all the way to California?"

"No," Sam mumbled. "I'm walking to the bus station, next town over."

"Jesus, Sam, that's 12 miles away! You're never gonna make it there. Not in this weather. Just...get in the car."

But Sam stood stock still, as though his feet were firmly cemented to the ground, so Dean grabbed his arm and started to pull him.

"Dean, I'm not going back there."

"Yeah, I heard you. Just get in. I'll drive you to the bus station."

Sam reluctantly allowed Dean to pull him towards the car, barely putting up a fight. When Sam grabbed the door handle, Dean relieved him of his backpack and duffel; standing right there until Sam finally bent down and climbed into the car. He closed the door for Sam and headed back towards the driver's side of the car, shaking his head in disbelief. Not only was Sam leaving him, leaving them, but now Dean was aiding and abetting his escape.

The drive to the next town went a lot faster than Dean had hoped, especially since the whole time he couldn't find one word in his scattered mind that he thought would convince Sam to stay. So they drove in silence. Once they pulled into the Greyhound parking lot, Dean shifted the car into park and left it idling; praying to whatever deity would listen that his last ditch effort wouldn't be in vain and somehow Sam would decide to stay. Apparently, Dean overestimated his own ability to come up with a valid reason for Sam to stay while he underestimated Sam's ability to be a stubborn ass.

"So..." Sam started and still Dean had absolutely nothing to say. Sam sniffed loudly, cleared his throat and added, "Thanks for the ride. Keep in touch, okay?"

Dean turned to Sam to see if he had in fact grown a second head.

"Keep in touch? Everything we've been through, every fucking thing we're supposed to be to each other, and the best you got is…'keep in touch'?! Yeah, Sam. No problem," Dean scoffed. His brother was infuriating.

"Well, what do you want me to say? It's pretty damn obvious you're not coming with me, and I know you're completely stunted when it comes to expressing _feelings_. So let me make this easy for you. Goodbye, Dean."

Sam started to wrench the door open when Dean grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him hard.

"Wait!" Dean growled, and Sam turned to glare at him, but really, Dean hadn't thought further than 'wait'.

"What?" Sam snapped, and Dean had to chuckle a little, although it definitely wasn't a happy one.

Dean had always indulged Sam; too much, Dad had said. Dean gave in to Sam a lot, but it's just that he had such a hard time saying no to him. The kid never really had a mom, and Dad was barely there and when he was, half the time he was too focused on a bottle or a hunt to bother with Sam's school plays or soccer games. Dad went to some of them, but Dean was really the only constant in Sam's life. It's not that Dean spoiled Sam, how could he when they didn't have anything. He just let him get away with more than Dad ever let Dean get away with.

"Dean, what?!"

Dean had never really had a problem speaking his mind, not when he was this mad, but the truth was, he was more than mad. He was terrified. Sam was slipping through his fingers and he had nothing.

"I just...do you have any money? I mean, you gotta eat, right? Buy a bus ticket?"

Sam visibly relaxed at that and calmly nodded his head. "Yeah, I got almost five hundred bucks."

Dean raised his eyebrows at that because, _damn_. Where did Sam get that kind of money? Although it really wouldn't go far, not on a trip to California.

Somehow knowing what Dean was thinking, Sam added, "I just need to get there. Full ride, remember? There's a dorm room waiting for me. I've got enough for now. I'll just find a part-time job or something once I get there."

"Wow. You've got this all planned out, don't ya?"

Dean couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice.

"I tried telling you and Dad that, but you wouldn't listen. As usual." Sam was fidgeting and Dean just knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Look Sam, I'm not gonna talk to you about Dad, alright? I'm just...I don't know."

"I'm gonna be fine, Dean. I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle my own life."

Dean glanced up at Sam's face, squinting to see the big capable adult that Sam was trying to convince him he was. But all he saw was his little brother. His stubborn and determined little brother, but still. Dean knew Sam was technically an adult now, but that didn't do anything to squash the ingrained need to protect him. And it really didn't do anything to fill the aching hole that was growing in his chest with every heartbeat. Sam was really leaving and apparently, there wasn't a damn thing Dean could do to stop him. Dean wanted to grab him, to beg him to stay, to kiss him and make him promise that he wasn't losing him, but he couldn't get any of it out. So he closed his mouth tight and looked back down at his hands.

"What? God, just say it!" Sam spat out, slapping his hands on his lap.

"Fine! I'm gonna miss you, okay? I don't want you to go! Why are you … what the fuck did I do wrong?"

For only the second time that night, Sam's eyes softened and he reached out to Dean, putting his hand on his thigh. "Dean, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, you're sure acting like I did."

"Okay, yeah, I was pretty pissed off that you didn't stand up for me with Dad back there, but that's not why I'm leaving. You...can't you understand that?"

"I do understand, Sammy. I really do. But it just...it feels like...it's..."

Too painful to actually say the words, Dean grabbed Sam and slammed their lips together, holding the back of Sam's head and reaching his other hand up to cup his cheek. Sam let out a surprised, muffled squeak, but then gave in and opened his mouth wide, letting Dean push his tongue forward. It was so passionate, and Dean slammed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain of realization that this could very possibly be their last kiss ever.

Maybe that would be for the best. Sam was better than this; than them. He deserved better. He always had. It took Dean a long time to accept this thing between them because he just wanted what was best for Sam, but once he gave into it, Dean was lost. There was no way anybody would ever be a better fit for Dean than Sam.

Sam's hands grappled at Dean's chest, moving down to where they dug into his ribs and he shifted closer, pressing himself against Dean. Dean could feel him struggling for breath, but he didn't want to stop. Sam breathed in deep through his nose and tilted his head, sucking at Dean's tongue, and holy shit did Dean not want to let him go. Reluctantly, after a few minutes, Dean let up slightly, drawing Sam's bottom lip between his teeth and biting down lightly before pulling back and lastly, pressing a few small kisses to Sam's lips. He laid his forehead against Sam's, both of them gasping slightly from lack of oxygen, and brought his hands down over Sam's chest to hold the sides of his hoodie together in his fists.

"Please be careful, Sammy. Okay? Take care of yourself. Stay safe. Don't do anything stupid and watch your back."

There was a tear trailing down his cheek, but he didn't bother trying to stop it or wipe it away.

"And if you need..." His voice cracked and he sniffled, trying to regain his composure. "If you need anything, please...please call me. Day or night."

"I will, Dean. Thanks...for everything."

Sam kept his eyes down, apparently as fascinated with what Dean's hands were doing as Dean was. "Ya know…I still wish you were coming with me, big brother."

A second tear slid down Dean's cheek, trailing in the same path as the first. He nodded, smiling sadly because they both knew he wasn't going anywhere. "I'm serious, Sam. Anything at all. I'll always be here for you. S'my job, right?"

Sam chuckled through the tears that were now flowing down his face as well, and Dean needed to rip this band-aid off. He let go of Sam's jacket and playfully shoved his shoulder. "Get going, brainiac."

Sam wiped his cheeks before leaning over the backseat to grab his duffel and backpack, then turned back to Dean. "I love you, Dean."

He leaned forward, placed a quick kiss on Dean's mouth and was out the door faster than lightning.

Dean sat in the car and watched as Sam went inside and bought his ticket. He sat and watched as Sam sat in the chairs waiting to board. He sat and watched as Sam walked back outside with about ten other people and got on the bus. And he sat and watched as Sam's bus drove away into the misty night. "I love you, too, Sammy."

May, 2010

"I love you, Sammy. Please tell me you know...I mean, what am I..." Dean mumbles into Sam's chest before he raises his head and looks into his eyes.

Dean internally cringes because this may very well be the worst night of his life, but when the hell did he become such a sap?

"Sorry. Whaddya know? Turns out I'm a girl, too," Dean lamely jokes, swiping at the tears on his cheeks and sniffling. But Sam doesn't smile. He just reaches up to wipe Dean's tears away at the same time.

Sam looks at him with such sadness and fondness that if Dean's heart wasn't shattering into a billion pieces at this moment, he'd be pissed at Sam for being so damn patronizing. There's pity written all over Sam's face and Dean doesn't want pity. What he wants...well, he can't have what he wants. He wants his brother, here with him. And alive.

That familiar suffocating feeling is coming back and it doesn't escape Dean how messed up it is that it's a familiar feeling. Their lives suck.

Dean places his shaky hand over Sam's on his cheek. "Sammy..."

But Sam maneuvers his thumb down to cover Dean's lips and shakes his head slowly. Dean closes his eyes at that moment and breathes in deeply through his nose.

"Dean, can we just..."

At that, Dean opens his eyes and smirks. "You tellin' me you don't wanna talk? Shit, the world really is ending."

Sam rolls his eyes, smiling faintly and answers, "God, shut up, Dean. That isn't funny."

But there's no bite to his words. He just leans forward and kisses Dean softly, making a quiet humming sound while Dean's eyes close with a flutter and his heart breaks all over again. That fucking internal calculator is starting to count down exactly how many Sammy -kisses he's got left to enjoy and he can't fucking take it.

He reaches up and grabs Sam by the back of the neck, pulling him away from the wall and turning them around, never breaking contact with Sam's mouth. He walks them towards the bed, kissing Sam the whole way over, and feels when the back of Sam's knees hit the mattress. When Sam sits, Dean follows him down with his mouth, never breaking the kiss.

Dean climbs onto the bed, placing a knee on each side of Sam's hips, straddling him and grabbing at the side of Sam's face; fingers buried in Sam's hair while he kisses him slowly over and over, short, rough kisses, angling his head a little differently with each one. The kisses speed up – hot, biting, possessive – and eventually, Dean moves from Sam's mouth to his jawbone, nipping down his neck to his collarbone.

Sam's hands wrap around Dean and rub up and down his back, as if he's memorizing the feel of his big brother, but Dean can't think about that, can't think about how little time those memories have left. Dean gently nudges Sam to lie down on his back and helps him scoot up the bed to rest his head on the pillows. Dean kneels over his brother, his knees bracketing Sam's thighs and his upper body propped up on his elbows, which rest on either side of Sam's arms. For a minute Dean just gazes into Sam's dark eyes, before taking in his flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. He leans back down, bringing their lips together in a slow kiss, their tongues sliding together as Sam reaches up to rub his thumb back and forth over the corners of their mouths where they're connected.

Dean reluctantly breaks away, pushing himself up, his ass resting on his feet and Sam's thighs. Sam looks up at him with those soulful eyes and Dean's heart clenches at the sight. His brother is beautiful, like a Greek God with miles of golden bronze skin covering all of those rippling muscles. Dean can't tear his eyes away as he grabs at the hem of his own shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. He runs his hand slowly down Sam's chest, over his rock-hard stomach, and through the baby soft hair below his navel before dragging his fingers even lower. Dean pops the button on Sam's jeans and then his own, unzipping them but leaving them on for the moment.

Grabbing Sam's hands into each of his own, he lifts them up over Sam's head, pushing them into the pillow a look; a silent command to keep them there. He's pretty sure Sam knows the drill by now. Dean catches sight of Sam's eyes, wide, liquid, beautiful and filled with lust, love, trust, and Dean can't even think about how much he's going to miss that, even if he doesn't deserve those things from Sam. He's pretty sure he's never deserved those things from Sam.

February 2006

The hotel room door slammed open, smacking into the wall and Sam scuffled in, followed closely by Dean.

"I can't believe you just let him go like that." Sam huffed, throwing his duffel bag on the floor by the bed closest to the door.

Dean immediately swooped down and picked it back up, throwing the bag on the bed furthest from the door before answering, "Yeah, you made that pretty clear, Sam."

"Jesus Christ, Dean. We've been searching for the man for how long now? We spend a few minutes with him and then you're all, 'nice seein' ya'."

"Sam, I'm gonna go to the bathroom now," Dean said slowly and calmly; sarcastic expression all over his face. "So, could you please hold that thought for a minute? 'Cause I sure as hell wouldn't wanna miss a fucking word of the same goddamn argument we've been having for the last two fucking hours!" Dean stomped to the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Sam followed him into the bathroom, and Dean shot him a look of horror from where he was standing over the toilet. "What...get the hell outta here, Sam! I'm takin' a piss!"

But Sam, to Dean's complete dismay, marched right up to the sink. "It's nothing I've never seen before, Dean." Sam replied dully, leaning into the mirror to inspect his injuries. "Ya know, we're never gonna catch this thing – end all this shit – without Dad. I understand you wanna keep him and us safe, Dean, but c'mon dude, hunting a demon? Safe isn't exactly in the job description."

Sam was poking at his cheek while he just kept going on and on and fuck, Dean felt like an idiot standing there with his dick in his hand and his mouth hanging open at the nerve of his little brother.

"Uh, Sam?"

Sam looked over at him, and Dean caught his eyes glance down before snapping back up to Dean's face, a hilarious blush spreading across his cheeks. This was too good.

"Do you mind?"

"Yeah, sorry, man." Sam got all fidgety and turned to walk out of the bathroom, walking into the doorframe before straightening out and finally making it out the door.

Dean zipped up and washed his hands, checking out his own bloody face in the mirror before walking out to see Sam sitting on his bed, picking at a hangnail.

Dean sighed, more to make his presence known than anything. It was a tough hunt; a tough day, and he understood why Sam was upset. He wasn't going to be a giant girl about it like Sam was, but still, he understood. He sat down on the end of the bed next to Sam, leaned back and propped up on his hands behind him.

"Dad's gonna be fine, Sammy."

"You don't know that, Dean."

"No, I don't know that. You're right. But if anybody knows how to take care of himself, it's Dad."

"I know. That's not really what's bugging me, anyway."

"Look, Sam, I know you wanna be a part of this. I know you wanna help take that son of a bitch down, and you'll get to. Dad's not gonna do it all on his own. He needs us. He may not know that yet, but he will. You'll see."

Sam looked back over his shoulder, giving Dean a skeptical look. "Your faith in him is unbelievable, man."

"Yeah, well, I've spent a lot more time hunting with him than you have. I know what kinda hunter he is, that's all. And I know what family means to him."

"Are you sayin' I don't? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't mean it like...look, can we just drop it? There's no point fighting over it. S'not gonna change anything anyway. I'm gonna go get the first aid kit and try and fix that pretty face of yours."

Dean leaned forward and started to stand when Sam grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. Dean looked down at Sam's hand and back up to his face, eyebrows raised in question.

"There's just...uh..." Sam trailed off with a nervous chuckle. Dean sat back down and waited for Sam to say whatever it was he was going to say.

"Okay, look. I didn't exactly mean what I said earlier."

"You wanna elaborate?" Dean asked when it seemed Sam was done talking.

Sam rolled his eyes a little, shaking his head. "When I said I didn't want things to be the way they were. You know I meant with Dad, right?"

"You lost me, Sam. Are you sayin' you don't wanna go back to school? What?"

"Yeah. No. I mean, I'm not sure. Yeah, I wanna go back to school, I think. And no, I don't want this life forever."

"Okay. Thanks for repeating yourself then. You know, 'cause it wasn't quite painful enough the first time around. Can I get up now?"

"Dean...wait. Fuck, this is coming out wrong. Look, I didn't mean I didn't want things to go back to the way they were. With us. You and me. You...you understand?"

Dean must've had confusion written all over his face because that's certainly the way he was feeling. His heart was starting to beat a lot faster and louder and he was sure Sam could hear it. It had been so long for them and Dean didn't want, even for a second, to assume that Sam was talking about _them_. He figured that part of their life was over. And Dean was sort of okay with that because watching Sam leave the first time was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do and he wasn't sure he could do it again.

"You're gonna hafta give me a little more than that, Sam." Dean finally answered.

"You...forget it, Dean."

"No way, man. You can't just say shit like that and expect me to drop it."

"Look, I just...I don't know. The stuff with Jess was so hard, still is. And I'm not sure if I can just...but I..."

"What exactly are you tryin' to say?"

"I'm tryin' to say that it's been nice being back on the road with you. It's been nice being brothers again. But..."

"But?" Dean's heart dropped into his stomach. He read it wrong. Sam was leaving him. Again.

"But...it sucks ass being with you 24/7, sleeping two feet away from you, having you in my personal space all the goddamn time and knowing...I miss you, man. Okay? I...c'mon, Dean. Don't make this harder on me than it already is."

Now, making wise decisions when it came to Sam wasn't a talent Dean had ever learned all that well. So he scooted a little closer to Sam, moving one hand up to grab a handful of his little brother's stupidly floppy hair, and Sam closed his eyes in response.

"Does this make it less hard, Sammy?" Dean said softly, seductively, moving his face a few inches closer and feeling Sam's breath on his face.

"God, you're a dick." Sam replied quietly, his eyes still closed, and Dean couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Dean closed the distance to drag his lips across Sam's, Sam opening up instantly so their tongues could slide together. Sam moaned into Dean's mouth and the sound went straight to Dean's dick. He'd been thinking about doing this for months, but had convinced himself it was never going to happen. Dean swirled his tongue all around the inside of Sam's mouth, running it over his teeth, his tongue, the inside of his cheeks; the flavor of Sam's mouth causing a predatory feeling to rise up in Dean. He reached up and not so gently pushed Sam back on the bed and then crawled up to kneel over him.

"Dean..." Sam breathed out, and Dean stopped for a moment to just gaze into Sam's eyes, seeing love and want there that Dean hadn't seen in years. It was their first kiss in so long, but all of a sudden it was like no time had gone by at all.

**_May 2010_**

"Dean?" Sam's slightly out of breath; his soulful eyes locked onto Dean's, and Dean starts at the realization that he's probably just been frozen there, staring down at his brother.

Usually when this happens, they're tired or injured or rushed, but every once in a while, they like to take their time, enjoying and ravishing each other like they have nothing else in the world to do; nowhere else to be. Sometimes they get so lost in each other they forget other people actually exist. Well, that happens even when they're not having sex, really.

But tonight is going to be one of those nights, Dean thinks as he keeps one hand clamped down over Sam's wrists, holding them above his head while running his other hand slowly down Sam's face, tracing his jawbone, slowly moving down his neck and shoulder to glide down the front of his chest. Tonight he's going to spend every minute worshipping every inch of his little brother, tasting him, memorizing him. And not just because he wants to, but because he _has_ to.

Sam extends his head back, exposing even more of his neck to Dean, and Dean takes the not-so-subtle hint. He bites down on the cord in Sam's neck that runs from his collarbone to his jaw. Sam hisses, making Dean smile into Sam's skin, always loving how his seemingly quiet and reserved little brother gets off on a little pain with his pleasure. They've been doing this for so many years and yet, it never gets old. Dean knows every little kink Sam has, and it always spurs Dean on.

Sam's breath is coming in rapid pants and he's arching his back as Dean's biting kisses move down to his chest, his tongue laving around Sam's nipples before slowly moving lower. Dean loves Sam's skin. It's salty, soft, scarred, and goosebumps spring to the surface immediate after he runs his tongue along it.

Dean runs his mouth over Sam's stomach, his tongue dipping briefly into Sam's navel and he grins when Sam huffs out a slightly high-pitched gasp. Dean's hands are inside Sam's jeans, clamped on his hips, holding him down as he struggles to arch his back, and Dean can feel the hard line of Sam's cock digging into his chest. He peers up at Sam to see him looking back at Dean, breathing heavily.

Dean wiggles back off the end of the bed, yanking Sam's jeans and boxers down with him. He gets them all the way off, tugging Sam's socks off too and throwing it all into a bundle on the floor before shucking his own jeans and boxers off to join Sam's on the floor. Leaning back over his brother, he latches his hands back onto Sam's hips, his stomach against Sam's thighs, as he places his open mouth to the sweat-glistening, heated skin of Sam's rock hard abdomen.

"God, Dean," Sam breathes, moaning and pushing his hips up slightly against Dean's chest.

Sam has always been so responsive, so passionate, and Dean knows it's killing him to keep his hands up above his head. He drags his lips from Sam's navel over to the cut of muscle just above his hips and lightly bites down, relishing in the moans coming from his brother's mouth. The noises Sam makes drive Dean fucking crazy, possessiveness filling his veins, and he digs his fingers into Sam's hips even harder. He wants to memorize every moan, every whimper, every breath, and he's starting to panic just thinking of never hearing any of it ever again.

Dean kisses down into the crease where Sam's leg meets his hip and gently draws the skin there into his mouth as Sam's breathing and noises get louder. He has the overwhelming urge to mark Sam everywhere, which has never really been his thing, but the need is so strong, because when Sam goes to stand in front of Lucifer tomorrow, Dean wants there to be absolutely no doubt who Sam _really_ belongs to.

Dean buries his face into Sam's skin, breathing in his scent, and it's so familiar, so comforting, and God, Dean loves it; can never get enough, but then he finds himself wondering, yet again, why _his_ little brother has to be the one to save the world, and why the _fuck _did he agree to this?

He is suddenly paralyzed with fear. He can't move, he can't breathe, he can't think of anything except how badly he wants to take Sam and run. He feels trapped, because if he's learned anything over the past year, it's that there is _nowhere_ for them to run or hide, not from those angel dicks. There's absolutely no escaping this and it's painfully clear now that they will stop at nothing. That's exactly why Sam and Dean are finding themselves here. They need to take care of this _their_ way. So his brother is going to say 'yes' to the devil and there are only two possible outcomes.

Sam will either be trapped inside his own head while Lucifer takes over his body and turns the world into zombieland, or Sam will somehow overpower him and jump into the deepest corner of Hell for an eternity of pain and torment the likes of which Dean can't even imagine, even _after_ spending 40 years in Hell himself.

Either way, he's going to lose his brother. Either way, Sam's gone.

It's a suffocating realization, and Dean's overcome with the pain as his face is still buried in Sam's skin, his forehead resting against Sam's hip, and the tears spring up to fill his eyes all over again. He feels Sam's hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. "Hey."

Dean raises his head from Sam's hip and sees Sam propped up on one elbow, reaching forward with his other arm. There is so much Dean wants to say to his brother but for the life of him, he can't get out a fucking word. Especially when Sam's got those goddamned puppy eyes trained right on him. Despite the tears, anger is bubbling up inside him again. This has been one long shitty nightmare of a year. And there's Sam, steady as a fucking rock, ready to put Dean back together. No way is that ever going to happen. They've been through bad times before, but this...this is way beyond bad.

"Dean, please. I need you, man."

Let it never be said that Sam doesn't know his brother. He doesn't say it's going to be okay, because they both know it won't be. So he says exactly what he knows Dean needs to hear. He says the one thing that Dean could never, ever say no to. He knows all of Dean's buttons, good and bad, and he's the only one who ever has and the only one who ever will. Dean raises himself to crawl over Sam, blanketing his body with his own, completely refocused. He places a kiss on Sam's mouth, breathing in through his nose with a sniffle, and Sam raises his hand to wipe Dean's tears.

Dean pulls back long enough to look at Sam's face and then rests his forehead against Sam's. They breathe each others' air for a moment while Dean composes himself, and then he presses their mouths together again, his tongue gently swirling around Sam's mouth; tangling with Sam's.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, just kissing and getting lost in each other, but then Dean grinds his hips down into his brother's. Sam moans, jerking his hips up against Dean's, and every time, Dean feels electricity running throughout his entire body. They haven't done this all that much since Dean got back from Hell and it's going to be a challenge to make this last, no matter how badly Dean wants it to.

He's finally getting into it again, and it's so good, but no way does Dean want this to be it. He reaches down between them, grabbing Sam's cock and giving it a few strokes. It's already dribbling precome so Dean figures Sam's having a difficult time hanging on too. Their kisses are getting rougher, harder, sloppier and Dean is stroking Sam faster and harder as he runs his lips down Sam's mouth, over his chin, and to the front of his neck, relishing in the sandpaper-like stubble scratching his lips, before pulling back altogether.

"Stay right like this, little brother," he breathes in a raspy voice and slithers slowly down Sam's body, smearing wet kisses into his skin, until his erection is in Dean's face. He leans down and presses an open-mouth kiss to the shaft, then licks a stripe up the underside, before bringing the head into his lips, savoring the tangy, salty taste exploding on his tongue. He loves the taste of Sam, can never get enough. Sam is getting louder, breathing heavier and Dean just keeps on sucking, pressing his tongue into the slit, while reaching down lower to roll Sam's balls in his hand.

"Dean...God, don't stop."

And Dean isn't planning on it. He's holding onto Sam's cock and licking it all over, kissing it, letting his spit run down the length. He then moves lower, running his tongue all over Sam's sac, alternating lightly sucking one into his mouth and then the other. Sam slaps his hand down onto the mattress beside him and Dean can't help but glance up at Sam, who's falling apart, throwing his head back into the pillow.

Dean shoves his hands under Sam's ass and lifts it slightly up from the bed, all while running his open mouth all over Sam's balls. He moves lower, and Sam spreads his legs a little further apart so Dean keeps going, his tongue seeking out Sam's hole and finding it. His tongue probes with tiny little jabs at first, while Sam honest-to-God whimpers.

"Fuck, Dean."

"Yeah, I'm gettin' to it," Dean slurs around his tongue that's sticking out of his mouth, jabbing in and out of Sam. Every inch of Sam is his, and he squeezes Sam's ass cheeks as his tongue darts in and around his rim. Sam's thighs are quivering and shaking right above Dean's head as he presses a finger inside of Sam, right alongside his tongue.

Sam's past the point of coherent speech, and Dean pulls his mouth away, adding two more fingers and trying to move back up to Sam's face, but not before stopping and wrapping his lips around Sam's cock on the way, bobbing down to take as much of it into his mouth as he can, swirling his tongue around it a few times before lifting up and giving it an open-mouthed kiss on the head. He finally kisses his way up to Sam's face and when he gets there, he sees that Sam's eyes are shut, his breath is coming out in short little pants, and Dean brings his mouth to his brother's ear. "Sammy, I … I'll always love you, okay? Just tell me you know that."

Sam's eyes pop open and he scans Dean's face before smashing their mouths together. "Me too, Dean," Sam mumbles against Dean's lips.

When Dean has four fingers pumping in and out of his brother, he reaches out with his free hand to grab the lube from the bedside table. He finally pulls his fingers free and sits back on his heels, grabbing his own cock and slicking it up. Dean grabs Sam's thighs and yanks him closer so his ass is angled up just right, and then lays back down over Sam, his cock pressed up against Sam's hole. He moves in slowly, Sam's heat enveloping him.

They haven't been doing this a whole lot lately, not on a steady basis for years, actually. Since before Dean went to Hell. And Dean is suddenly blind-sided with a feeling of regret as he pushes himself inside of Sam in one fluid movement. Both brothers slam their eyes shut, and Dean can't help but think that this is where he belongs. This is home for him. It always has been and nothing will ever take the place of this. The intoxicating feeling of Sam's wet, tight heat wrapped him is warring with his emotions and it's almost too much for Dean to handle. He feels the prick of tears stinging his eyes and Sam must see this, because he reaches his hand up to cup Dean's cheek, and when their eyes lock, Dean sees tears in Sam's eyes, too. "C'mon big brother, move."

Dean moves down to kiss Sam, while pulling his hips back, moving almost all the way out before pushing back in again with such force that Sam slides up the bed a little. Sam reaches his hands up above his head, wrapping his fingers around the horizontal slats in the headboard and uses the leverage to meet Dean with every thrust.

They've always moved in tandem, always in lock-step with each other. At least whenever it mattered the most, and this was no exception. In and out Dean moves as Sam moves up and down.

Dean swivels his hips deeply and slowly, and when he opens his eyes, he sees a tear squeezing out of one of Sam's eyes. Dean moves his face down towards Sam's and places a soft kiss to the teartrack on Sam's cheek. They're both breaking, but nothing, especially not Lucifer, is going to rob them of this moment. So Dean does what he's always done when it comes to Sam; keeps moving forward, plowing through the pain, getting lost in him.

Sam wraps one of his legs around Dean's waist, digging his heel into Dean's ass and starts meeting Dean thrust for thrust. Dean's vision is starting to black out on the edges and no way can this be it. He wants this moment to last forever. But it's not going to. Although Dean has decided that he's going to stretch this night out as long as he possibly can.

Sam makes the most beautiful sounds, moans and grunting puffs of breath escaping his mouth in time with each slam of Dean's cock into his body, like Dean's pushing it right out of him. Their bodies are plastered together, the sweaty glide of their stomachs moving against Sam's cock, which is trapped between them. Dean angles himself a little so he's able to reach in between them but Sam reaches down and grabs Dean's arm.

"No, Dean, don't. Like this. Just you."

Their gazes lock on each other and Dean nods slightly, all the while, his hips are pounding him deeper into his brother. Sam is so beautiful, his face and neck glistening with sweat, his lips pressed together, and his almond-shaped eyes big and filled with so much emotion, Dean can hardly look at them. So he swoops down and captures Sam's mouth in a sloppy kiss, both of them way too out of breath for it to be any different. Dean buries his face in the crook of Sam's neck, pushes himself slightly up on his knees and changes his angle a little more, knowing he's slamming into Sam's prostate. Sam's breathing gets louder and he's trying to form words, Dean can tell, but they sound more like airy grunts. "De..D'n...god...D'n...m'gonna..."

And Dean understands completely. He's right there with him – he's so close. He wraps his arms under Sam's back, hands grasping up and hooking over Sam's shoulders, and Dean's pulling him down as he's twisting and swiveling his hips and grinding himself as deep into Sam as he can get.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean rasps.

Sam cries out, as Dean can feel Sam's cock twitching between their stomachs, so Dean pulls out and slams in one last time, ramming into Sam's prostate and holding it there, pressing as hard into it as he can. He feels Sam erupt between them, his come filling up the miniscule space that separates them, and Dean groans at the sensation of Sam's inner muscles fluttering and clamping down on him. He pumps his hips a few more times, grunts and spills deep inside his brother.

Dean lets his head drop, his forehead resting against Sam's cheek, both of their chests still heaving, trying to catch their breath. They're still connected in every way, emotionally, physically, head to foot, and Dean wants them to stay like this forever. The sound, the sight, the taste, the smell of his little brother is invading every one of his senses, making him feel like a whole person in a way that nobody else has ever been able to.

Sam brings his hand up and rubs the back of Dean's head, his fingers playing through his hair. Dean keeps his head pressed into Sam's cheek and neck and he tries to whisper "Sammy..." but his voice cracks as he says it and it comes out more like a broken sob, but Dean knows that Sam understands and there's no need for words right now.


	3. Chapter 3

_so I'll love whatever you become_

_forget the reckless things we've done_

_I think our lives have just begun_

_I think our lives have just begun _

**_May 2010_**

They're both lying on the bed intertwined, legs and arms in a tangle, and while Dean isn't always a snuggler, he is in no rush to let go tonight. Sam's head is on his chest and he's dropping small kisses to Dean's tattoo.

"I remember when we got these. You remember that, Dean?"

Yeah, Dean remembers. It was one of the scariest times of his life, and that's saying something. It was when they were dealing with Azazel and Sam kept insisting that Dean was going to have to kill him. It was also shortly after Meg had possessed Sam and they had been carrying around those little trinkets Bobby had given them to ward off possession. Of course, Dean didn't think that was good enough; not when it came to Sam's safety. He had merely suggested tattoos; he was pretty much joking, too, but then Sam geeked out and created the perfect symbol to not only keep demons out but to protect them and bind them together or some shit like that. Multitasking tattoos was what Sam had called them. To be honest, Dean hadn't listened to much of what Sam said when he babbled excitedly about the design. Dean was just happy it looked cool.

"Yeah, I remember, Sammy."

Sam chuckles briefly and quietly, obviously remembering something about that night and Dean just smiles sadly; he just can't drum up enough happiness to even fake a laugh. He's actually impressed with himself for not being a broken pile on the floor, screaming and crying in agony.

"You said, 'we should'a done this a long time ago, Sammy. Nobody has any business being inside you, but me'," Sam chuckles and Dean smiles painfully as he bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to use physical pain to distract him from the pain in his chest.

"Hey, I stand by that statement," Dean says with complete honesty, but Sam is giggling and Dean can't help joining him. After a few seconds, though, their laughter dies as the gravity of what's going to happen tomorrow looms over them yet again, and they both apparently realize how their tattoos will be of absolutely no help whatsoever. Not with the Devil.

Sam must know what's going through Dean's head because he props himself up on his elbow and looks down at Dean, as if he's preparing for Dean's imminent panic attack. This is fucking real. Sam's going to say yes, Lucifer is going to wear him like a cheap suit and Dean agreed to stand by and watch it happen.

Dean scoots up to a sitting position while Sam backs up a little to give him room. But as soon as the contact is broken, Dean's reaching out for his brother again. He takes Sam's face into his hands, his thumbs stroking gently along Sam's cheekbones. Sam must see something in Dean's eyes because he swallows loudly and suddenly looks as scared as Dean feels. And Dean is fucking terrified.

"Dean, it's going to be okay." Sam's voice is soft and pleading, as though he's desperate to get through to Dean and make him believe. "_You're_ going to be okay. You will," he says.

But Dean isn't going to be okay and he's pretty sure Sam knows that. On the other hand, Dean definitely understands Sam's desperate need to believe he will be all right. Their positions were reversed just two years before and Dean had told himself that same little lie over and over again during that final year just so he could sleep at night. And Dean didn't believe it then any more than Sam believes it now.

"Sam, this isn't the first time I've lost you, so don't try and make me feel better about this. I get why you have to do this, but you know as well as I do how this is gonna go."

Dean releases Sam's head and instead wraps his arms around his brother's body, pulling him down to lay his head against Dean's chest. He runs his hands down Sam's back, finding that spot on Sam's spine that he knows as well as any scar either of them have. He has a strange fascination with it and can't help rubbing his fingers over it. That scar signifies so much and for a long time Dean had been extremely pissed that the fucking hell bitch he bargained with had left it there as a mocking reminder of what he'd lost. Over time though, it had come to represent more to Dean than just loss. It reminded him of the extreme lengths that he would go to, to keep his brother alive and safe and wasn't that just fucked up? Because Dean knows now that selling his soul wasn't the most genius plan he's ever come up with but he sure as hell doesn't regret it. He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Sam lets out a long sigh into Dean's chest, causing goosebumps to break out all over his skin. "Dean." Sam's voice was muffled against Dean's skin. "I need you to tell me you're going to be okay."

Sam lifts his head but Dean can't look into his eyes and see his little brother looking back at him, asking him for something that Dean just can't give. He just kept rubbing his thumb over that scar on Sam's back, memorizing it for the millionth time. "Please, Dean? Look at me."

**_May 2007_**

Dean pulled his hand away from where it was wrapped around Sam's back and looked in horror at the blood that remained there, warm and sticky, coating it like paint. The wound was bad, really fucking bad. The severity of the situation hit Dean like a punch to the gut and he grunted, barely swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat.

Kneeling in the mud, Dean held his little brother close to his chest, listening to his raspy breathing, which was way too fucking slow. He briefly wondered if maybe he was feeling it, not hearing it, but then he decided it didn't matter because it was seriously _too _fucking slow. And weak.

Dean used all the strength he had to push Sam up, try to make him kneel on his own but his baby brother was sagging against him, limp as a ragdoll. No. No way. No, no, no. This was not happening. He grabbed Sam's shoulders, had to make him listen.

"Hey, look...look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright?"

But Sam's head was lolling and nodding not unlike a bobblehead. When Sam was better, they were gonna laugh about that. But not now, because his Sammy wasn't fucking listening. Dean clutched the front of Sam's jacket in a death grip and yanked, trying to keep Sam from closing his eyes. Somewhere in his mind Dean knew that was important. Knew that Sam needed to stay awake and fucking listen.

Sam gazed at him through unfocused, glassy eyes and Dean knew he was trying to listen; trying to understand. It almost looked like he was going to roll his eyes and tell Dean to stop hovering, and for the first time in his shit-hole of a life, Dean really wished he would. But then Sam's eyes got heavier and his head started to drop forward again. No, no, no. No! Dean shook him, really shook him hard.

"Sammy? SAM!"

Sam, startled back to consciousness, snapped his eyes open for a second and looked right at Dean; right into him. Dean softened his voice.

"Hey, listen to me."

He had to reason with Sam. As long as he kept Sam's attention on him, it was going to be alright.

"We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. Huh?"

Just then, Sam's eyes rolled up in his head before closing completely and his head dropped forward. Okay, so he's tired. Maybe he just needs sleep. Dean guessed that would be okay as long as he kept breathing. He just needed to get Sam in the car and get him someplace where it wasn't fucking cold, wet and muddy. He just needed to patch him up. They won't be hunting for a while but they could both use a break after this. As it was, Sam couldn't even hold his head up for Christ's sake. Then again, Sammy was always listless when he was hurt or sick. But as the big brother, Dean knew exactly how to take care of him. It was going to be fine.

Dean raised his arms, supported Sam's head by holding the sides of his face in his hands.

"I'm gonna take care of you. M'gonna take you care of you. I got ya. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?"

Dean smiled shakily at him but Sam didn't respond. His eyes fell closed again, only this time, they didn't flutter. It looked like Sam wasn't even trying to open them, not like before. He looked peaceful, but definitely not in a good way. The raspy breathing had stopped. Dean scanned his face for a sign – any sign – that Sam was still with him. This was not happening. Don't leave me, don't leave me. It was a mantra pounding in his brain, over and over. Sam was his entire world. They had so much more to do, Dean had so much more to teach him.

He caressed the side of Sam's head as it dipped forward again and he brushed those too-long bangs out of Sam's eyes. Sam hated having his bangs in his eyes. God, Dean really wanted to see his eyes again. Dean's chest was closing up and he knew he was seriously losing it.

Then, suddenly, a feeling of dread like nothing he'd ever felt washed over him. He couldn't feel Sam anymore. He wasn't even aware of the connection between them but now that it was gone, it was like his life line had been severed, cruelly picked at with a dull knife until it snapped. No. No, no, no, no. He clenched the sides of Sam's face and shook him again.

"Sam? Sam! Sa-am? Sammy?!"

Dean searched his brother's face up and down. There was no movement. No sound. No breathing. No nothing.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no."

The blood in Sam's mouth was covering his lips. It was then that Dean felt it in his soul. His Sammy was gone.

"Oh. God."

Dean scooped his brother in, clutching him close to his chest, hoping the rapid thumping of his heart would somehow jump-start Sam's. But Sam's body slumped forward and Dean didn't know what else to do but hold on to him for dear life.

His hands were shaking and grabbing everywhere – Sam's back, his neck, the back of his head. Dean wanted to pick up his brother and run but he didn't want to move him either. They needed to get out of there but all he wanted to do was hold him close and die with him. He wanted to kill whoever did this to his little brother, to both of them, but no way was Dean leaving his little brother here alone. God, the pain. The fucking pain. He wrapped his arms around his brother and rocked him back and forth like he was consoling a child, squeezing him and holding on tight because wherever Sam was going, he was taking Dean with him. Back and forth, back and forth they rocked until Dean suddenly remembered that Sam had already left without him. Tears filled his eyes and he tried to let out a cry but it wouldn't come. He was paralyzed with grief, the air ripped away, stolen right from his lungs. He couldn't see how he'd ever breathe again. But he didn't really want to. His Sammy was gone.

Dean lifted his arm around the back of Sam's neck and squeezed his brother with all the strength he had. The grief and pain and anguish bubbled out from the depths of his broken heart as he bellowed "SAAAAAAAAAM!" while shaking him before finally burying his face into his brother's shoulder, letting the tears pour out of him.

As snapshots of Sam's life flashed before his own tear-drenched eyes, Dean decided he was going to stay here with Sam until the end of time – they were never leaving this spot. He was kneeling in the mud, sobbing and holding his brother's mortally wounded body while the remnants of the rain misted over them. Dean hated misty rain.

**_M__ay__, 2010_**

Dean wiggles himself free from Sam, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he buries his face in his hands and digs at his eyes with the heels of his palms. He isn't startled by Sam's hand on his shoulder but he shrugs him off, bends over to grab his boxers off the floor, slips them on, and heads for the bathroom.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asks with long drawn-out sigh.

Dean goes in the bathroom and shuts the door on Sam's voice, locking it behind him. He needs a minute to get himself under control. He splashes some water on his face and looks up in the mirror. Grabbing the cup off of the sink to get a drink, he stops suddenly as he catches sight of himself. Between losing his dad, losing Sam the first time, 40 years in Hell and the shitstorm that's followed for the past two years since he came back, he feels old. He's weary and tired and he looks it. He's damn near unrecognizable to himself. For a moment he can remember how he looked, how he was, when he went and grabbed Sam from Stanford, and then he mentally berates himself because why? Why the fuck did he do that? And then he remembers. Because Sam is his little brother. His other half. And living without him is...

It happens out of nowhere. One minute he's yelling at himself inside his head and the next thing he knows, Sam's pounding on the door and Dean's standing in broken glass.

"Dean! Come on, man! Open up! Now! Dean!"

Dean can't move. He's frozen to where he's standing and can only vaguely hear his brother yelling and beating on the door. He looks up and the mirror is completely shattered, the glass he was holding in his hand, all over the sink and floor in broken shards.

The door flies open and Sam is standing there, his chest heaving with exertion from breaking down the door.

"Jesus, Dean! Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"I don't...I...uh..."

"Dean, look at me, man. Hey hey hey, Dean, come here. C'mon, let me see."

Sam grabs Dean's hand, flips it over, and puffs his cheeks out, blowing out a sigh and shaking his head as he lets go of Dean's hand, letting it drop and looking around the room.

"Shit, Dean. Was that really necessary?"

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, man. Just...you gotta...get yourself under control."

Dean laughs bitterly at that, because seriously?

"Are you fucking kidding me? You have any idea what kinda leash I've got on myself right now? I mean, do you have a fucking clue how easy it'd be to go say yes to Michael just so I could go kick Lucifer's ass all over this planet?! And I won't do it – but fuck, Sam, I want to."

His head hanging down, Dean grits his teeth. He knows Sam's gotta be the one to do this but that knowledge doesn't help defeat the instinctive urge he has inside to protect his brother at all costs. And it certainly does nothing to stop the anger inside him from reaching the point where he wishes he could stab all those sons of bitches in the face like he did to Zachariah.

Dean shuffles through the broken glass to walk around Sam and get out of the bathroom. He can see Sam's reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He's trying to pick up the bigger pieces of glass out of the sink.

"Leave it," he says over his shoulder at Sam. Dean can hear him tossing chunks of glass into the small plastic garbage can.

"I said, leave it, Sam!" Dean yells towards the bathroom as he sits down on the bed with his elbows on his knees.

Sam comes out of the bathroom a minute later and shuffles over to sit by Dean on the edge of the bed. Always the little brother, Sam mimics Dean's position by hunching over with his elbows on his knees, their shoulders rubbing together.

"Hey," Sam says, knocking his shoulder into Dean's.

"Hey," Dean replies quietly.

"I guess you needed that," Sam states but Dean just chuckles softly with no humor at all.

"What I need..." Dean trails off and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You're gonna die, Sammy," Dean says quietly.

"I know," Sam replies just as quietly before continuing. "But Dean, if I don't put Lucifer back where he belongs, the world is gonna end. A lot of people are gonna die. Us included. So there's really no other...my life for all of theirs, right? It's no contest."

Dean's heard that before somewhere, hasn't he? He shakes his head to clear his mind and instantly decides that's a bad idea. His head is throbbing.

"Why can't we just go back a year and do this shit differently, huh? Get Cas to bring us back and make the right choices this time. Back before Lucifer broke out-"

"He didn't break out, Dean. I let him out."

"Then before that. Why can't we just go back and do it right? There's gotta be some way to get Cas on board with this."

"Don't you think if there was a way that Cas would have already tried that? He doesn't want Lucifer up here any more than we do. Besides, he'd have to take us back a lot further than a year to really stop all this from happening."

"The hell does that mean?"

"I'm just sayin'...we've been on this path a lot longer than that, Dean."

Dean doesn't push him for more because he already knows what Sam means. Cold Oak. Probably before that even. They've been manipulated and controlled for years and Dean played right into their hands every step of the way. But he'll never say bringing Sam back was one of his mistakes. He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"I just don't know how to do this, Sammy. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Flashes of him pleading, screaming at the dead body of his brother brutally invade his mind. _"What am I supposed to do?!" _He closes his eyes tight and wills those thoughts away and swallows the lump in his throat. "I just don't know what I'm gonna do." He shakes his head as it hangs, he doesn't have the strength to even hold it up at this point. Right now Dean's pretty sure that Atlas guy had it easy.

They sit there, Dean's not sure how long, but it's quiet. Comfortably quiet. As comfortable as it can possibly be, considering. Dean's sitting on the end of the bed, his brother sitting right next to him and this should feel good, safe. But it doesn't. It feels wrong and sad. And for maybe the first time in his entire life, Dean has nothing else to say. But it turns out he doesn't have to.

"I ordered you a burger every day," Sam whispered.

Dean's not sure he heard that right, and even if he did, it makes absolutely no sense. He turns his head in the direction of Sam and through squinted eyes, he sees Sam sitting there, his head hanging down, an exact mirror image of himself.

"What?"

"Florida. The Mystery Spot? The tricks – well, Gabriel, those six months you were gone? I ordered you a burger every single day. I don't know how many months went by before I even realized I was doing it," Sam says in monotone, almost like he's dreaming.

Oh. Dean's still not sure he quite understands but from what he's gathering, it doesn't sound good. They are _so _fucked up. This is the last thing Dean wants to listen to right now but he doesn't have the heart or the motivation to stop Sam from talking, and he does. He tells Dean way more than he needs to know.

"I'd order the burger and put it at the table across from me. It made me feel...I don't know, not so alone, I guess? I'd just look at that burger and it would...fuel me. I'd get so fucking mad that you weren't sitting there eating that burger and with every minute it sat there, I'd become more determined to get you back."

Sam finally stops rambling and Dean is trying to make sense of all of it in his head but there's just nothing. It even hurts to fucking think right now.

"So, let me get this straight. You're saying that after tomorrow, if I just order some big geeky salad every day and put it on the table that I'll feel better about this? That it'll magically give me the strength to go on? 'Cause I'm not sure that's gonna do it for me."

"God, Dean, no. You...I don't know what I'm saying. M'sorry. I just don't know what to say to you, you know? I mean, I know what you're feeling. I've been where you are, remember? I just...I don't know what to tell you."

Dean thinks about that for a minute and then reaches his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulls him in so he's pressed right up next to him, maneuvering Sam's head to rest on his shoulder and then dropping a kiss to the top of Sam's head.

"Whaddya say we go back to bed, huh?" Dean asks with a squeeze to Sam's shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

_staying awake to chase a dream_

_tasting the air you're breathing in_

_I know I won't forget a thing_

**_May 2010_**

"Dean, you awake?"

Dean is lying on his side, his arms wrapped around Sam's waist and his face buried in the back of Sam's neck. He could feign sleep but what's the use; Sam will know he's faking. "Don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight," he mumbles into Sam's warm skin."What's up?"

Sam stays silent for a minute but that is all the time it takes for Dean's nerves to set in. "We need to talk," Sam finally says. "About Lisa, I mean."

Dean sighs and releases his hold on Sam to roll onto his back, and Sam follows. They're lying side by side, both staring up at the ceiling. Dean knew this was coming. It's just that given the choice, he'd really rather not get into this right now. Not that there will be time later.

Dean throws an arm over his eyes and groans. "C'mon, man, didn't we already have this talk in the car? I said I'd go there, didn't I?"

"Yeah, well, that'd be great if I actually believed you meant it," Sam answers.

Dean lifts his arm from his face and stares over at Sam. "What do you want from me, huh, Sammy? You want me to pinky swear? What?"

Sam glances back. "Do you even understand why I want this for you?"

Dean rolls his eyes and looks back up at the ceiling. "Yeah Sam, I do. I get it. You want me to go play house and live some normal apple pie life so maybe I'll forget about where you are and what's happening to you. That about it?" But Dean knows damn well what Sam's getting at.

"Dean. You...no. That's not it. Look, I'm not saying it's gonna be easy but..."

"I'm not stupid. I know exactly why you're pushing for this. You wanna be able to march to your death knowing I have someone on suicide watch. And I said I'd do it, okay? So can we not do this?"

"We have to," Sam says reluctantly. "Look, when you went to Hell, what did you want me to do? What did you tell me to do?"

"Oh come on, Sam."

Sam props himself up on his elbow, facing Dean. "Just answer me. Please."

"Fine. I told you that you were gonna be okay. I told you to keep hunting. I told you to take care of my baby."

"And?"

"And...and I told you not to use your powers. I told you to fly straight and move on. Which you didn't do, by the way."

"Exactly. And look what happened."

"I don't _have_ powers, remember?"

"I'm not talking about that. Jesus Christ, Dean. You...I just...I don't want you flying off the rails, alright? And I _really_ don't want you to be alone."

"And what, you think some chick is gonna make me okay with all this? Somehow ease the pain?"

"C'mon, Dean. You and I both know Lisa isn't just some chick. I know how you feel about her."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Whatever, man. I do know what I'm talking about. You care about her, Dean. Maybe you don't love her right now but you _could_. She's different from all the other girls and you know it. I just...I think she'd be really good for you."

"God, Sam..." Dean rolls his eyes and lets out a nervous chuckle, because this isn't exactly a comfortable conversation. They've both had women in their lives but the thought of Sam with someone else always seems to make Dean feel like a jealous teenager. Although, considering what's going on tomorrow, this conversation is nothing but depressing.

"It's okay. Really. I'm...it makes me happy to think about you having a life with someone like her. It would be good, Dean. It could be really good. What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Dean realizes he's looking at Sam like he's lost his mind but that's only because he's pretty sure Sam _has_ lost his mind. "Because we're lying in bed together. Naked. It's totally fucked up that we're talkin' about this."

Sam gives a small smile and brushes his fingers lightly on Dean's cheek.

"I know, Dean, but we have to talk about it. Y'know, when you went to Hell, I totally lost it. I drank myself stupid every day. I tried to open the Devil's Gates again. I went to dozens of crossroads and tried to deal with any and every demon I could find. Hell, I was so fucked up, I ended up trusting a demon and drinking her friggin' blood."

Dean wraps his hand around Sam's wrist – instantly stopping him from rubbing Dean's face with his finger – and sits up.

"Thanks for the recap, Sam. What's your point?"

Sam sits up and faces Dean. "My point is that I don't want you doing all that shit trying to save me. I'm not kidding about the cage. Once it's shut, you have to leave it alone. Believe me, I know how hard that is to –"

"So, you want me to turn my back on all the evil shit going on out there, turn my back on _you_ and go get married, chaperone school dances, get a nine-to-five and play golf with the guys?"

Sam looks thoughtful for a second and replies, "Well, maybe you could skip the golf."

"Sam..." Dean starts to pull away. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore. Just thinking about doing it is downright unbearable. He's not sure it's something he'll be able to do. He wants to argue; wants to tell Sam that if he jumps, Dean's gonna jump with him. It's utterly ridiculous that they're even talking about this because the last thing Dean has in him is to watch his baby brother die and then go on to live happily ever after in the suburbs with some girl. But Sam grabs Dean's face with both hands, stops him from going anywhere and forces him to look Sam in the eyes.

"Yes, Dean. To all of it. That's exactly what I want. You've given enough, man. It's time to hang it up and just _live_. You've earned that much. Let someone take care of you for a fucking change."

Dean feels the sting of tears for the hundredth time tonight. He lowers his head until his chin is resting on his chest, but with Sam still holding on, Dean feels like he's about to lose his shit. Again. "I can't, Sam," Dean's voice comes out all raspy. "I really can't."

"Why not?"

Dean raises his head and looks straight into those beautiful eyes; the eyes that have been looking back at him for as long as he can remember. "'Cause she's not you. Alright? And okay, fine, I do care about Lisa. Probably more than I've cared about any woman I've ever known and maybe in a different lifetime that would'a meant something, but... in this lifetime? The only person who means a goddamn thing to me, is you. You're my little brother. Losing you the first time...I was..."

Dean jerks his head out of Sam's grasp and closes his eyes against the memory, shaking his head. "And now...I can't...and anyway, I'm not gonna just show up like that on her doorstep; some broken, pathetic mess that she'll have to take care of like some little kid. I wouldn't be a boyfriend – I'd be an obligation. Lisa doesn't deserve that."

Reaching up to cup the side of Dean's neck, Sam flashes a sincere look as tears fill his eyes. "She'll help you, Dean."

Dean grasps Sam's outstretched arm and squeezes. "And who's gonna help you, Sammy?"

**_October, 2008_**

"She helped me, Dean."

Dean's forehead scrunched up in confusion because what the hell could a demon ever help anybody with? "Helped you what, exactly?"

It was dark out, and Dean could see the sweat on Sam's forehead glistening whenever they drove past a streetlight. He had that nervous look on his face that he used to get when he was little and lying and desperately trying to think of a good argument to get himself out of whatever it was he was trying to get out of. "What are you, jealous?"

"Right. I'm jealous of some hell bitch wearing a dead chick with a nice rack. Yeah, I don't think so, Sam."

Sam was driving them somewhere, Dean wasn't sure where, just that Sam had said it was a surprise. They had been getting along a lot better since Oktoberfest and that creepy ass shapeshifter with a horror movie fetish. Not to mention, Dean's mood had improved immensely since he had managed to score that hot blonde. Although he was a little hurt – okay, not hurt, disappointed – that it didn't seem to bother Sam that Dean had gone off with her. They hadn't really been in that place since he came back from Hell, but still, Sam hadn't even mentioned it. He'd seemed almost happy for Dean, maybe even a little relieved that Dean had gotten some. The only thing Dean could think of to explain it was that Sam didn't want to make waves – and a complacent Sam usually meant a secretive one.

He was definitely hiding something, that much Dean was sure of. Dean had already found out about the little alliance between Sam and Ruby during his time 'down under'. He had caught them red handed in that warehouse, even. But there was something else Sam wasn't telling him. Something even worse, Dean suspected.

So whatever this surprise was that Sam was cooking up - it was obviously meant to distract Dean from asking any more questions, which was exactly what Dean was going to keep doing.

"Wait a minute, why would you ask if I was jealous? What the hell does that even mean, Sam?"

"Nothing. Look, can we please not talk about Ruby tonight? I already told you I'd stop working with her and I did. I haven't even seen her since that night, so can we just drop it?"

Dean decided he wasn't in the mood to fight tonight anyway because they really had been getting along. But no way was he letting this go. He would get answers eventually, even if it meant he had to tie Sam to a chair and force it out of him, but not today. He decided to have a little mercy on his brother. For now, anyway.

Dean looked out the window and scanned every direction. It was dark and there wasn't much to see but it was driving him fucking crazy that he didn't know where Sam was taking them.

"Where are we going anyway?"

Sam smiled uneasily and replied, "M'not tellin'. It's a surprise, remember? We're almost there."

Dean sat back and kept looking out the window, trying to put Ruby out of his mind for the time being, but it wasn't easy. He couldn't figure out what Sam had meant by saying she'd helped him. What help could Sam ever have possibly gotten from a demon? Dean was more upset that he hadn't been around; that it was because he was in Hell that Sam had needed help in the first place. So he guessed Sam was right. He _was _jealous. Because the hell bitch had been there when he couldn't be.

Sam turned the wheel sharply and drove the Impala down a dark road in the middle of nowhere, and Dean couldn't help but notice him nervously chewing on his lip. Why was Sam nervous? Where the hell were they going? Sam made another turn right away and that's when Dean saw it. A drive-in movie theater.

"What...we're at a drive-in? Seriously?"

"Shuddup, Dean. That's not the whole surprise." Sam rolled his window down as he pulled up to a little booth at the corner of the lot. A scruffy old guy leaned forward, cigarette hanging from his mouth, and peered inside the Impala. Sam handed the guy a twenty, while he handed back to Sam an ancient looking speaker with a long cord dangling from it. Sam nodded his thanks and pulled into the parking lot, finding a spot close to the back, even though they were the drive-in's only patrons.

Dean watched all of this – especially Sam – with some amusement; eyebrows high up on his forehead. "What, are you puttin' the moves on me or something? Is a drive-in one of your moves?"

"What am I, some greased-up teenager from the fifties?" Sam snorted and tossed the speaker over to Dean. "Here, hook this up to that pole right there. I gotta grab something."

They both got out of the car and Sam went to the trunk while Dean hooked up the speaker. When he was finished, he looked up to find Sam climbing onto the hood of the car.

"Hey, hey, hey, careful there, Ginormo. You dent her and I'll dent you."

"You comin'?"

Dean slid onto the hood next to his brother. Sam had placed a little cooler on the hood between them, and he reached into it, pulling out two beers and handing one to Dean.

Dean twisted the lid off and tossed it back over his shoulder with a grin.

"Wa-wa-wa-wait," Sam added, holding up one hand and reaching back into the cooler with the other one. He pulled out a bag of popcorn and laid it on his lap before pulling out a package of licorice, much to Dean's amusement. He knew how much Sam hated licorice. Sam made a disgusted face, mock gagging, as he lightly threw the candy over. Dean caught the bag single handedly, ripped the corner off with his teeth and spit it out. He pulled out a piece and crammed it into his mouth, while Sam watched him and shook his head.

"Alright, I'll bite," Dean mumbled around a mouthful of chewy candy.

Sam tossed some popcorn into his mouth. "What?" Sam asked with some confusion.

"Well, it's not my birthday, and as far as I know, neither one of us is dying...right? Right?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised, because really, the question wasn't that ridiculous. Sam just looked back at him incredulously. Obviously he wasn't going to volunteer any information so Dean continued. "So…what are we doin' here?" His head jerked back as he pulled at another piece of licorice with his front teeth, biting it in half.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. He leaned back against the windshield, his legs crossed at his ankles, and held out his beer. Dean clinked his bottle against Sam's before laying back and copying his brother's position.

"Seriously, Sammy, what is all this?"

Sam focused on his beer, turning it around in his hands a few times before looking back up and locking gazes with Dean. "I was just thinking it's been kind of a shitstorm since you got back, and I don't know, I just wanted us to have a little fun together. You don't have a problem with fun, do you?"

"Nope." Dean chewed thoughtfully. He put the bag of licorice down and slowly moved a little closer to his brother.

"Are you _tryin'_ to push me off the car?" Sam asked with a slight waver in his voice.

"You're hogging all the popcorn, bitch," Dean answered, shoving his hand into the bag that was lying on Sam's lap. He pulled out a handful of popcorn and stuffed it messily into his mouth, brushing away several kernels that fell all over himself.

He felt Sam's eyes on him and he started to feel a little self-conscious because it had been a while for them and he wasn't sure how Sam was going to respond – or if he was going to respond at all.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows and scotching closer to Sam before taking another bite of licorice.

Sam winced and Dean felt an immediate pang of guilt. He'd meant it to be a lighthearted comment, not an accusation.

"No. I just...I didn't think..." Sam trailed off, shrugging and clearing his throat before speaking again. "I mean, you don't...we're not..." Sam gestured lamely between the two of them.

Dean scooted even closer because fuck if Sam didn't look like a wounded puppy and his whole life, Dean had never been able resist being a huge sap whenever Sam wore that expression. Not to mention that Sam had been pretty stocked up on confidence ever since Dean got back from Hell and damn, was it nice to see his shy little brother again, especially since Dean knew it wasn't going to last.

"Sam, we...I mean...we kinda always are. Y'know?" Dean copied Sam's gesture but then left it at that because he knew Sam understood what he meant.

Sam nodded before looking up at Dean with hope clearly written all over his face. He leaned in slowly, closing the short distance between them. Dean started to lean in, too, when all of a sudden a loud noise blared through the speaker and the giant screen lit up. They both jumped a little and Dean reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. They were acting like a couple of fumbling, inexperienced teenagers on a first date and Dean barely suppressed an eyeroll.

After a short mental pep talk, Dean decided to play it cool because being smooth was one thing he was good at, and fuck if his little brother was going to make him act like some blushing virgin. So as the previews for upcoming attractions played on the screen in front of them, Dean reached over and pushed Sam's bangs out of his eyes. He lifted Sam's face up by the chin and slowly leaned in, dragging his lips over his brother's. Sam made a soft noise, kind of a whimper/humming sound that Dean hadn't heard in forever and it went straight to his dick like an electrical current. Dean's eyes squeezed shut and he moved his hand to cover the entire side of Sam's face, before dropping it to the back of Sam's neck. Sam reached up and grabbed the sides of Dean's face and that was just it for Dean. He pressed into Sam's mouth even harder, forcing his brother's lips open with his own and sliding his tongue slowly in next to Sam's. Dean ran a hand lower, down Sam's back and pulled him in closer.

Just as Dean was about to suggest moving this into the car, the familiar drums of 20th Century Fox started to pound out of the speaker behind him, followed immediately by the unmistakable high pitched notes of the Lucasfilm, Ltd. Theme and Dean knew exactly what that meant. He pulled back from Sam and looked deep into his brother's eyes, moved beyond the ability to speak, which Sam obviously picked up on because he spoke up first.

"I wanted to watch this again. The first time I was pretty drunk; couldn't really see the screen."

Dean didn't want to know if Sam couldn't see the screen because of the booze or because he was crying. He suspected it may have been a little of both.

"Indiana Jones IV?"

Sam shrugged like it was no big deal, but it was. To Dean it really was. When Sam had told him he'd already seen it while Dean was in Hell, it had stung a little bit. Alright fine, it had hurt. A lot.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam responded by shrugging again. They settled back against the windshield and looked at the screen. Dean shivered a little but he chalked that up to the chill in the air. The silence between them was awkward, and dammit, Dean hated feeling like this with Sam – the one person he should always feel comfortable with.

"I never shoulda seen this without you, man."

Dean suddenly stopped chewing and turned to look at Sam, holding that position until Sam looked back at him.

"You know, I heard this movie sucks," Dean stated, as he crammed more popcorn into his mouth and he was rewarded with a bitchy look of disbelief from Sam. Fucking with his little brother was written in the big-brother handbook. It was practically the golden rule. It would be wrong not to fuck with Sam, really.

But the dejected look on Sam's face wasn't as funny as it should've been so Dean added, "Hey, it doesn't matter, okay? I'm with you now."

_May, 2010_

"Hey, you still with me?"

Dean vaguely feels Sam bumping their shoulders together. He blinks past the memories and forces himself to talk.

"Yeah, yeah I'm with you."

Side by side, they're propped up against the headboard, sitting in the dark with the pale streetlights peeking in through the curtains.

"You keep fadin' out on me, man. What's goin' on? You're starting to freak me out a little."

Dean turns his head in Sam's direction. His eyes have adjusted pretty well and if he squints he can pretty much make out Sam's features.

"Oh nothing, Sam," Dean answers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, really. Everything's peachy."

"You know, you don't need to be such an ass."

"Then quit asking stupid questions."

And yeah, Sam actually looks hurt when Dean says that but come on, this whole thing is like Nightmare Eve and Dean doesn't have it in him to pretend otherwise. Sam visibly winces and it's all Dean can do to not drop to his knees and beg forgiveness for putting that look on his little brother's face. Sam is the last person in the world Dean should be snapping at. Especially tonight.

"Sorry. Guess I've just been remembering a lot of stuff, ya know? Stuff from when we were kids and..." Dean trails off with a shrug.

"Really? I have been too, actually," Sam answers.

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You have?"

"Well, yeah. My life flashing before my eyes and all that, right?"

"Yeah, well, that happens after you die. Remember?" Dean blew out a fast breath. "Man, Heaven sucked."

The second Dean says it, he wants to take it back. Heaven and all the events of that day are still on the do-not-discuss list. For many reasons. And apparently they're going to remain there.

"Still better than the alternative."

Dean snorts because it's true. As bad as Heaven is, Hell is much, much worse. "Yeah, don't we know it."

"Actually, I don't. Not really. Wait's almost over now, though." Sam smiles but there's no humor to it at all. Still, it just pisses Dean off.

Dean quickly turns on his brother, scowling. "God, Sam. How can you be so fucking calm about this? This isn't a goddamned joke!"

"I know it isn't. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just...I don't know. Scared?" There's a pause while Sam shakes his head, clears his throat and then adds, "I'm terrified, actually."

Sam throws Dean a shaky smile and all of Dean's anger evaporates. The thought of his big, strong, little brother being scared makes Dean nauseous.

"Yeah, fuck, you're right. Go back to making jokes, please."

Of course, Sam ignores Dean's sarcasm and just keeps going, breaking Dean's heart one word at a time.

"It's not that I'm necessarily scared of Hell. Well, okay, that's a lie. What I mean is, I'm not scared of the pain. I'm scared of tomorrow. That I'm gonna fail. I'm scared all of this will be for nothing. And fuck…I'm scared for you. I'm scared of letting you down, Dean. And I...can I tell you something?"

Dean gulps even though his mouth is completely dry because he needs a minute to contemplate that question but then he nods. "Yeah."

Sam takes a deep breath. "More than anything, I'm scared of never seeing you again."

It comes out as barely a whisper but Dean hears it. His heart is officially draining out through his pores and his throat closes up. Sam let's out a shaky laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. Dean wastes absolutely no time and rushes forward to pull his brother into a tight, desperate hug. Sam is scared and Dean is, above all things, a big brother, and his pain comes second to Sam's. Always. So Dean just holds him, clinging tightly. And he'll keep on holding him as long as Sam lets him. There aren't any words that can be said between them. Dean has serious doubts as to whether he'll ever be able to speak again.

"Was that stupid? Should I not have told you that?" Sam's fingers are digging into Dean's back and all Dean can think about is how he'll have Sam's fingerprints bruised into his skin longer than he'll actually have Sam.

"No." Dean's voice croaks. "I'm your brother, Sammy. I already knew."

And then Sam is going on and on, talking like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't.

"Dean, you've always been there for me and you've always taken care of me. Somehow you always knew just what I needed, even when I didn't want it. You've...well, in a lot of ways, you've been like a father to me, you know?"

Yeah, Dean knows that. He also knows that this moment is getting entirely too serious.

"Don't let the fact that we're naked stop you from saying shit like that."

Sam sniffles and then laughs wetly into Dean's shoulder. "You know what I was just thinking about a few minutes ago? Remember when you taught me how to ride a bike?"

"Hell yeah, I do. You did really well…for a runt."

"Ha ha. I wasn't a runt so much as the bike was too big for me, if you recall."

"Yeah, but that was a damn nice bike I got for ya. You would've grown into it eventually if you hadn't made me take it back."

"Dean, you stole it."

"Yeah, but that kid was an asshole. And you deserved a nice bike like that."

"See? You taught me to ride a bike. You taught me to read. You taught me to hunt. Hell, you even taught me to dance."

"Okay, how is that never talking about it again?"

Sam laughs. Full-on laughter. It's beautiful. God, Dean is going to miss that laugh.

"Don't get me wrong, Dean. I loved Dad. I did. But you were more of a father to me than anybody and you're going to be great with Ben."

"Sam..."

Sam pulls back from Dean; their gazes locking.

"Please, Dean. Promise me you'll go there." Sam reaches up and grabs Dean's shoulder, squeezing. "Promise me."

**_November, 2008_**

"It's gonna be okay, Dean. I promise."

They had been sitting there for at least ten minutes since Dean had told Sam about Hell. It took about five of those minutes before Dean could stop sobbing and all he could think about was how grateful he was that Sam hadn't started talking about their feelings yet. Dean was completely tapped out. He knew somewhere deep inside, it felt kind of good to get that huge Hell-shaped weight off his shoulders but he still hadn't been able to bring himself to look Sam in the eyes. He just wouldn't be able to handle the acceptance or the judgment he might find there. So he just stood where he was, facing the highway, clutching his beer with sweaty, shaky hands, hyper-aware that Sam was right behind him, sitting on Baby's hood and just waiting for a signal from Dean that it was okay to start talking again.

So when Sam's hand finally grasped Dean's shoulder from behind, Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. Against his better judgment, he turned around and looked at his little brother and what a mistake that was. Sam looked at him like it was _his_ world that had just imploded.

Dean remembered what it was like when Sam used to look at him with hero worship in his eyes. That was just another thing that Hell had taken away; another thing neither of them would ever get back. Dean was more than aware that he had left part of himself in the pit and if he was truly being honest with himself, part of him had already died a year before that, the night Sam had died. After both of those experiences, all that was left of Dean was a broken shell and he just didn't have it in him anymore to make Sam feel better about any of it. He no longer had the will or motivation to even pretend. So once again he was letting his little brother down, which was getting to be a pretty familiar feeling. Dean would hate himself for that if he could, but hatred, even self-hatred, took too much energy, so he would just have to settle for indifference at this point.

Sam squeezed his shoulder. "Okay? I promise, man."

"Whatever. Let's just get outta here."

But apparently Sam wasn't done because he slid off the front of the car and walked around to stand in front of Dean, grabbing a hold of both of his shoulders.

"I mean it, Dean. And thank you. Thanks for telling me...I know it's..." To which Dean scoffed before Sam leaned down and looked up into his face and continued. "You have nothing…nothing to be ashamed of. D'you hear me?"

With that, Sam moved in to wrap his arms around Dean, but Dean wasn't doing this. Not now...not ever. He shoved at Sam's chest but Sam just kept coming, pulling Dean closer to him. "Don't push me away. Not this time."

Dean was pretty sure he was in serious danger of completely breaking down, and who knew if he'd ever come back from it if he did. Sam's new bulked out body was too much to fight as he just pulled Dean in, squeezing him tight like he was afraid Dean was going to disappear, which was actually pretty ironic since there wasn't much left of Dean now anyway. If he was thinking clearly or even cared about his dignity, he'd be fighting Sam harder on this heart-to-heart crap. He'd just told Sam what had happened down there, even if it was the cliff notes version, but still he was pushing for more. Dean didn't have anything more to give. What the hell did Sam want from him? Jesus.

"Sam, just stop," Dean mumbled into Sam's chest. He made a feeble attempt at breaking free but that just made Sam hold on even harder. Obviously Dean was able to feel some annoyance and irritation so he wasn't completely dead inside, but still. He knew his little brother was trying to be there for him or whatfuckingever Sam was attempting to do but honestly, Dean couldn't handle any more. Didn't Sam hear what he had done in Hell? Why in God's name wasn't he sprinting in the other direction? Dean was no saint. He definitely wasn't a hero. He was flawed and weak, and he wondered if deep down he wasn't evil too. Because what kind of animal could do what he did and not be evil? Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, he thought about whether or not he was at least part demon. He was in the pit for forty years. How long did it take for someone to become one of those black-eyed sons of bitches? He was pretty sure he wasn't but what difference did it make? There wasn't anything left in him worth anybody's time anymore, sure as Hell not Sam's. But still, there Sam was, stronger than ever, grasping onto Dean and reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. When the hell did Dean become the needy one who had to be watched over and taken care of? God, he was pathetic. That was made even more evident by the fact that he was actually taking comfort from Sam by physically admitting defeat and crumpling into his brother's embrace.

"It's okay, Dean. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay. It wasn't your fault." Sam kept repeating nonsense like that with his arms wrapped around Dean and rubbing his hands up and down his back. About two minutes of that was pretty much Dean's limit before he pushed back from Sam again.

"Are we done here?" Dean asked, scrubbing his hands over his face. And there was Sam, looking at him with sympathy and pity written all over his face, like it was drawn in permanent marker.

"Dean, anybody would...this doesn't make you any less –"

"Can you just stow the motivational speaker crap? Please?"

"Yeah, okay. But Dean..."

"I'm not kidding, Sam. Drop it, alright?" There was a slight warning tone to his voice but still, he was practically begging because apparently self-respect was yet another thing added to the list of shit he had left behind.

"I know you don't want...just let me say something."

Dean sniffled and let his hand sweep out in 'go-ahead' gesture, because really, he had no strength to argue. Besides, if Sam had something to say, he wasn't gonna hold it in, Dean knew that from 26 years of Sam experience. Sam looked somewhat surprised that Dean wasn't fighting him on this, and Dean honestly couldn't blame him.

"No matter what, man. We're brothers. Nothing changes that, alright?"

Dean wanted to answer him, wanted to tell him that life sucked for him then, because having Dean for a brother isn't exactly something Sam should be proud of. Fuck, they were both a mess. And Dean couldn't help but think of his Dad. What the hell would his Dad think of him now? He wasn't the man his Dad thought he was, wasn't the man his Dad raised him to be. He was broken, a shattered image of what he used to be and if he was honest with himself, what he used to be wasn't much better. He monumentally fucked up. Not only did he not take care of Sam the way he was supposed to, he let him get killed and then he left him alone. Now Sam was almost as screwed up as Dean. He was forced to depend on a fucking demon, even fucked a demon, he trusted her and the worst part of it all, Dean didn't have the energy to do anything about it. He knew deep down he cared that Sam was on some psychic-demon-powered downward spiral but it all seemed out of control now, beyond Dean's control. Dean shook his head and laughed bitterly while thinking that if his Dad could see him now, he would have regretted the deal he made. Dean should've stayed dead. Dad never would've let things get this bad. When he raised his head to look up at Sam, he found Sam waiting with an expectant look on his face, just waiting for an answer from Dean, some reassurance that they were gonna be okay, that when Sam said they'll always be brothers, it was supposed to mean something to Dean. It used to and it probably still would, if Dean was capable of feeling anything but indifference. Dean just swung the keys around his fingers, walked toward the door and said to Sam over his shoulder, "It really doesn't matter, Sam. Nothing matters." And then Sam visibly deflated as Dean got in the car, shoulders slumped and started the engine.

**_May, 2010_**

"It doesn't matter?"

"What?" Dean asks, confused.

"You just said 'it doesn't matter'," Sam informs him.

"I didn't...I don't fucking know." Dean looks down at his hands on the blanket covering his lap and isn't surprised to see them shaking.

Sam lets out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah well, it does matter, Dean. You matter and I need you to promise me you'll go to them."

Dean knows he's stuck. No way is Sam going to let this go, and Dean is not going to spend the last few hours they have together fighting or lying to his brother. So he looks Sam in the eyes and whispers, "I promise. Okay? If I make it through this, I'll go to them."

Sam sighs again, only this time it was an obvious sigh of relief. A moment later, though, Dean sees his eyebrows scrunch together and his forehead crinkle up as he asks, "What do you mean, _if_ you make it through this? You have to make it through this. Didn't we already have this discussion? Dean, I am not gonna let him hurt you. You're gonna hafta let me do this alone."

"Huh uh. No way, Sammy."

"Dean..."

Dean turns again and grabs Sam by the face. Sam's going to listen to him now. This is his last shot.

"Listen Sam, I've been thinkin'...Michael's riding Adam, right?"

"That's what Cas says."

"I don't know about you, but that doesn't sit right with me. I mean, he's our brother. End of the day, he's family. And he didn't ask for this. Dad never woulda wanted this for him."

"I don't think Dad woulda wanted this for any of us."

"You know what I mean. Now look, I say we try to find Michael first –"

Realization dawns on Sam's face and his eyes widen as he shakes his head. "No. No way, Dean."

"Just let me finish. If we find Michael, I know I can convince him to take me instead. I mean, I am his "true" vessel, right?"

Sam pulls completely away from Dean, throwing back the blankets and turning to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands, letting out a frustrated growl into his palms before standing up and whirling around to face Dean, his face red with anger and arms stretched out at his sides.

"What the fuck, man? Why are you doing this? We've got –" Sam glances at the clock before turning his glare of disbelief back at Dean. "– five fucking hours before we have to be on the road and you're startin' this shit up again?!"

"I'm just sayin' the kid shouldn't have to do this for me! This is our mess, Sam, not his! And he's in way over his head!"

"I get that, man, I do. But he agreed to it!"

Dean shakes his head sadly, "I don't buy for a second that you believe that shit."

"Okay, fine, I don't. But he's already screwed. I mean, Christ, Dean, he's already dead!" Sam's silent for a moment and then turns back around and faces Dean again with a strange look of sadness and defeat on his face. "Look, for argument's sake, let's just say you say yes. Then what?"

"Then we go down together."

Sam throws his hands up to his face again, clearly trying to control his temper and failing miserably. "That's just it, Dean! We won't go down together! One of us will kill the other! And then we both lose! We'd be playing right into their fucking hands! Aren't you the one who told me once that we should stop spreadin' it for the demons? Well, I'd say that goes for angels, too, don't you think?"

Dean just sits there, shoulders slumped, looking down at his hands again. Sam blows out a long breath and then Dean feels him climbing onto the bed, so he looks up and sees Sam sitting on his knees in front of him, rubbing his hands up and down Dean's blanket covered thighs.

"Remember when we first met him?" Dean asks. "I was so pissed at Dad. Pissed that he kept him from us."

"You were jealous, Dean."

And it's true, Dean was jealous. He was jealous that this kid got the Dad Dean always wanted, even if it was only one or two days a year. But mostly he was jealous because of Sam. That day, Dean got to see Sam as a big brother, looking at Adam shoot a gun with a pure look of pride on his face. God help him, Dean was jealous. He was insane with jealousy. Being a big brother was his thing and his thing only. And he was afraid, too. What if Adam had come with them and Sam became to Adam what Dean was to Sam? What if Adam became more important to Sam than Dean was? He remembers that anger and jealousy and fear that had been clawing away at his gut, and his heart. Now when he thinks about it, he feels guilty, because that's what Dean does. He feels guilt. But he doesn't have time for that now. The most important thing in his life is right here in front of him and he needs this to take this last ditch, Hail Mary, attempt at keeping it, even if it means they both rot in Hell forever. At least they'd be together.

"Was not," Dean feebly answers with an involuntary pout.

"Dude, you were so jealous you couldn't see straight. You had some fucked up notion that Adam was gonna take your place in my life. And don't bother lying to me, I know you too well, man."

Dean knows that, too. Tears spring to Dean's eyes because the one person who knows him, the one person who loves him, the only person who means anything to him in this shithole life of his, will probably be dead 24 hours from now.

"He's our brother, Sam. And it sucks that all this has happened to him but you are my priority. Always have been, always will be. And if there's a way out of this..."

"If there was any other way out of this, we would have thought of it already. But there isn't. There's only me. And it's gotta be done. But if you say yes to Michael and I say yes to Lucifer, we'll be powerless. We'll have no control over how this plays out. Team Free Will, right? We do it our way. Besides, this is all my fault. I have to fix it."

"It's not your fault, Sam."

"Yeah, it really is, Dean."

"You didn't do this, alright? This was done to you. All of this goes back to when you were just a baby. Hell, if it's anyone's fault, it's fuckin' Yellow Eyes trying to make you his own little Dionne Warwick with his goddamn psychic friends' network."

Sam snorts at that and Dean can't help but chuckle sadly. Sam crawls forward until he's kind of sitting on his knees, resting his ass on Dean's thighs. He reaches up to brush his fingers over Dean's cheek before leaning in to press their foreheads together.

"I need you to be safe, Dean. I need to know you're okay if I'm gonna have any chance at all of taking control back. C'mon man, this was the plan. You agreed to it. Please don't let me down now."

If he wasn't gallantly walking to his death tomorrow, Dean would kill Sam himself. It wasn't fucking fair. No way was Dean going to be able to get out of this now. Looking out for Sam, putting Sam before everything else, that's what Dean was created for. And with Sam putting it like that...Dean knew. He just lost the most important argument of his life.

_promise to hold you close and pray_

_watching the fantasies decay_

_nothing will ever stay the same_


	5. Chapter 5

_all of the love we threw away_

_all of the hopes we cherished fade_

_making the same mistakes again_

_making the same mistakes again_

_**May 2010**_

Dean awakes and he's a little surprised he fell asleep at all. His eyes are still closed but he can feel Sam's hair tickling his nose and he can smell the fruity shampoo Sam insists on using despite all the shit Dean gives him for it. And if he's being honest, he loves it. He loves the smell. It's not a girly scent – although that's how Dean describes it when he's making fun of him – it's just...Sam.

Dean squints his eyes open and peers over Sam's shoulder to the window where the sky is peeking above the curtains. The sun isn't up, but the sky is that early morning glowy dark color, and he knows they probably only have a few hours left before they have to get up. His chest tightens and he feels nauseous and those fucking tears are back, filling his eyes and blurring his vision.

Sam's breathing is even, but he isn't asleep. Dean can always tell the difference. Sam used to fake sleep all the time when he was little but, Dean always knew.

Dean's holding Sam from behind and there's no way Sam fell asleep at all with the way Dean's squeezing him like he's a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. Dean sniffles and presses a kiss to the nape of Sam's neck before resting his forehead to the back of his head, again breathing in his brother's scent.

"Sun's gonna be up soon," Sam whispers, and Dean knows they're thinking the same thing. This is the last time Dean will ever hold his brother in his arms.

Dean shrugs a little. "We have a few more hours before Bobby busts down our door."

Dean used to love the silence. He used to love the way he and Sam could spend hours not saying anything and still be completely comfortable. Although right now, if he doesn't say something, anything, he's going to break apart in to a million pieces.

"You think Cas is just sitting there watching Bobby sleep?"

Sam giggles - fucking giggles - even though there is absolutely no reason to be laughing.

"Not if Bobby has anything to say about it. 'Sides, he's pretty much human, right? I'm sure he's asleep."

Dean nuzzles Sam's neck and kisses behind his ear and Sam reaches up to grasp the hand Dean has wrapped around his chest.

"Sammy?" Dean whispers into Sam's ear.

"Mmmm?"

"I want you to fuck me."

Dean can feel Sam shiver slightly before he turns around in Dean's arms and just blinks at him.

"What?" Dean asks. "It's not like we've never done that before."

"I know, but, you don't have -"

"I just...I need..."

Sam reaches up, grabs Dean's face and kisses him.

"I know, Dean. Okay. It's okay."

They don't do it like this very often, and now Dean's thinking with regret that maybe they should have. It's just that Sam is the only person Dean would ever be that vulnerable with and even then, he doesn't allow himself to be very often.

Sam presses Dean back into the mattress and kisses him for a few minutes, slowly, lazily, no rush to it at all. Every move Sam ever makes in his life is always thought out; deliberate, and sex is no different. Dean just lies back and allows Sam to take control because, for once, he wants to be taken care of. Not that he'll ever admit that out loud. But with Sam, he doesn't have to because Sam already knows what Dean needs. He always knows. At least when it comes to this.

Sam is lying half on Dean and half off, dropping small kisses to Dean's mouth, deepening them a little with every one, while Dean is grasping onto Sam's biceps, just clinging to his 'little' brother.

"So...how do you...wanna...um..."

If Dean wasn't so damn depressed, he'd laugh at his brother right now. Crowley calls his brother a moose, and he _really _is. He's this big, muscly brute, capable of taking down anything that comes up against him. Hell, in a few hours, he's going to be taking on Lucifer, _the fucking devil_, and yet here he is, being all shy and bashful and _golly gee_. The man is a walking contradiction, but Dean loves that about his little brother. He has such a huge heart, and even though they're in bed together, Dean can't help thinking that Sam got that trait from their mother. Because even with all the mistakes Sam's made the last few years, he _always _had the best of intentions. Everything he does, he does for the right reasons. His little brother is the best person Dean knows and later today, he's going to save the world. It's that thought that has Dean on the brink of yet another breakdown because he knows he'll never meet another person in his life that could ever compete with Sam; not for Dean's heart, because that's always belonged to Sam.

"Like this is fine, Sammy. I wanna see you."

Sam nods at Dean and then moves to completely cover Dean's body with his own. He swoops down and kisses Dean so deeply and firmly that Dean feels it all the way down to his toes. And Sam keeps kissing him, over and over, his tongue sliding slowly into Dean's mouth and fuck, Dean forgot how much he loves a take-control Sammy. Dean closes his eyes, lets everything else go and gets completely lost in the sensation of his brother all over him.

Sam's hands are everywhere, running through his hair, over his shoulders, and down his chest, while he ruts into Dean. The feeling of Sam's cock, huge and hard, rubbing against his own - even through two layers of cotton boxers - is so incredible, Dean thinks they should get the show on the road soon or he's going to come in his shorts and that's definitely not the plan here.

But then Sam pulls away and starts to move down Dean's body, sliding down out of Dean's reach and Dean grabs Sam's arm. "No, no, no, no."

Sam stops from where he's kissing Dean's stomach and looks up. "Dean, I'm just getting our boxers -"

"Come back up here, Sammy." Dean insists, tugging on Sam's arm. Sam flashes Dean a look of confusion, but he moves back up, looking Dean in the eyes.

"M'right here, Dean. S'okay." They both know Dean is panicking, but it doesn't matter. He lifts his hips, reaching down to remove his own boxers and Sam does the same. Then Sam adjusts himself to blanket Dean's body with his own, lining them up like two puzzle pieces that were made to fit together.

Sam goes back to kissing Dean all over - his mouth, chin, and neck while his hand is slowly sliding lower to wrap around Dean's cock and giving it a few strong pulls. He reaches lower, down past Dean's balls to rub gently at his hole. Dean's shaking and he really appreciates that Sam doesn't mention it because it's not about the sex. It's about the fact that this is the last time they will ever be together. This is the end for them; their final goodbye, and Dean is overcome with emotions that he has no ability to bury. Not this time.

Sam scans his eyes over Dean's face and Dean knows Sam can see the tears in his eyes. He places a soft, chaste kiss to Dean's mouth before reaching over to grab the lube off the bedside table. Bringing his hand back down after drizzling the lube over his fingers, Sam rubs over Dean's hole a few more times before slowing pushing a finger in.

Dean grunts a little and Sam looks at him with concern. "This okay?"

Dean's lips pressed tight and his brow furrowed, he just nods in response before adding, "M'good. More."

So Sam pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another one, stretching and twisting, opening Dean up slowly. Normally Dean would tell Sam to get the hell on with it, but he really wants this to last so he's says nothing, just pushes his head back into the pillow, his eyes locked on Sam's.

Sam soon adds another finger and then another, working up a slow, steady rhythm, pumping four fingers in and out of his brother. It feels so damn good, Sam and his huge gentle hands, and Dean feels like he could stay like this for hours. But then he remembers that in a few hours they'll be in the car, headed straight for Hell, and he slams his eyes shut, trying to block out those thoughts, at least for now. Suddenly he feels Sam's lips on his own and Sam murmurs into his mouth, "You ready?"

Dean can't trust his own voice right now, so he merely nods, and Sam nods in return. Sam pulls his hand out, and God, Dean hates that empty feeling, but he knows it's not over yet. Dean lets his legs drop open even more as Sam reaches down to slick himself up before positioning his cock to nudge up against Dean's entrance. Sam gently maneuvers Dean's legs up against his own chest and pushes forward slowly, sliding inch by inch into Dean and then frames Dean's face with his hand, kissing him and swallowing down Dean's moans. When he's all the way inside, Sam holds himself there, giving Dean time to adjust. It hurts a little, but Dean couldn't care less about that. Any kind of pain, great or small, pales in comparison to the pain in his heart. And even though they don't do it this way very often, Dean loves the full feeling of Sam inside him, stretching him, connecting them together the way they were always meant to be.

"God Sammy, move."

Sam wastes no time at all. He pulls out and slowly pushes back in, repeating this over and over a dozen times before getting a really good rhythm going. Sam drags his lips over Dean's cheek, breath coming out in loud gasps, and Dean's grunting in time with every thrust. Dean knows Sam's holding back because he's moving slower than they usually do. He knows Sam wants to make this last as long as possible too.

There is no sound in the room but the slap of skin on skin, heavy breathing, grunting moans and the headboard lightly thumping the wall. Dean reaches his hand between them, bringing it down past his own balls to feel Sam pumping in and out, to memorize what they feel like connected this way. He doesn't want to forget a single moment of this.

He feels sweat drip on his cheek and looks up at Sam's face; his beautiful face, scrunched up in concentration, his cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. But then Dean realizes it wasn't sweat that dripped on his cheek, it was a tear. Sam's crying. Dean has never been able to handle seeing his brother cry and his heart clenches so hard he's afraid he's going to pass out. Sam crying right now is so much worse than ever before because there's nothing Dean can do to make it better.

Sam hooks one arm under Dean's knee, pushing that leg even higher and harder into Dean's chest so he can change his angle. Dean's dick is steadily leaking now that Sam is slamming into his prostate with every thrust, but the tears, still streaking down Sam's face, are all Dean can see at this point. Dean can't hold his own tears back any longer so he just lets go.

Sam is pounding into Dean, although the rhythm is still slow, and he's swiveling his hips, digging up into Dean, and Dean swears he can feel Sam all the way up into his stomach. Sam brings his face down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Dean. Their faces are wet with tears and sweat and spit from all their sloppy, desperate kissing, and Dean doesn't think sex has ever felt this good and this painful all at the same time; the contrast is fucking killing him.

"D'n, God, D'n..." Sam is breathing out his name and he starts speeding up, fucking Dean harder now, and Dean knows this is it. Sam reaches between them and starts pumping Dean's cock, and God it's so good. Sam knows exactly how Dean likes everything.

"M'close, little brother." Dean's voice is little more than a gritty whisper, and Sam whimpers at Dean's words before slamming their mouths together, pounding his cock into Dean, harder, deeper and faster. Dean can't hang on any longer as feels his orgasm invade every nerve ending in his body and his breath comes out like a punch, come spurting from his dick and spilling all over Sam's hand and the space between them. Sam follows Dean a few thrusts later, an almost inhuman cry tearing from his throat as he pumps slower, more eratically and off rhythm, filling up his brother. "God..." Sam says between breaths. "I love you, Dean...I do..." Sam heaves out a few more breaths before burying his face into Dean's neck. "I always will."

Dean wraps his arms around Sam's back, running his fingers through the sweat pooling there, and presses a kiss to the side of Sam's head. "Me too, Sammy. I love you, too." Then Dean's face scrunches up and he can't stop himself from sobbing.

**_EPILOGUE_**

The sun is finally up and Dean is packing their bags when Sam comes out of the bathroom, hair wet from his shower and fully dressed.

"Dean, can you come here for a sec?" Sam asks lightly.

Dean walks slowly toward Sam, not really having the strength for this.

"We probably won't get a chance later and I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for believing in me, man. You have no idea -"

"Didn't we do enough of this last night?"

"Well yeah, but -"

"Sam, if I have any hope of actually getting us on the road and where we need to be, I need to stop you right there. I'm sorry but I just have to,." Dean says, his voice cracking at the end. They could have all the time in the world and it would never be enough. He just needs to get them the hell out of here. He was never one for walking slowly into the water. He always jumped right in. He can count on one hand the number of times he's actually been truly terrified, and this is at the top of his list. But he owes it to Sam to trust him on this so he needs to just put one foot in front of the other. Because if he starts in with this again, he's likely to kidnap Sam and run off to hide them in some angel-proofed, salt-lined, iron-laden, demon-trap-filled, underground bunker in the middle of a nowhere.

"Whatever else you want me to know, Sam? Believe me, I know," he says with a confident nod. Because he does.

"But Dean –"

Dean cuts Sam off by walking up to him, grabbing his biceps, leaning in and brushing his lips softly and slowly across Sam's, his eyes closed and heart broken. He holds the kiss for a minute, raises one hand up to clutch the back of Sam's head and Sam's fingers are digging into Dean's back. This is it. But they have work to do. The kiss ends way too soon as Dean pulls away, clears his throat and adds, "I'll be in the car."

Dean turns and walks out the door. If he doesn't get in the car now, he never will.

Dean sits in the Impala, waiting for Sam, Bobby and Cas. The irony of it being a bright, sunny day, when it's probably the darkest day of his life, isn't lost on Dean. He starts up the engine and for the first time in his life, the familiar rumble isn't comforting; not at all. It just sounds sad, as if she actually knows where they're going and why. Dean turns around in his seat, looking out the back window so he can back out of the parking space when his eyes catch on something.

The little green army man Sam stuck in the ashtray when he was a kid.

It's still there. Dean has always made sure it stayed there, too. He always thought it was funny as shit, but now it just makes him want to burst into tears all over again. He'll never get rid of it, though. Never.

Some people have their children's heights at various ages etched into closet doors, but Winchesters have initials carved into the trunk of their car. Some people have postcards and souvenirs of the places they've visited, but Winchesters have scars all over their bodies that tell the stories of where they've been and who they've met. Some people have degrees and resumes, but Winchesters have an old leather-bound journal to keep a record of their accomplishments and failures. Some people have photo albums and home movies, but Winchesters have army men stuck in their backseat ashtray.

Most importantly, Dean has his memories and nobody can take those from him. He remembers when he first met Sam, he remembers Sam's first word and his first steps. He remembers being brothers, best friends, father and son, and he remembers when they became even more. He remembers every time Sam walked out of his life and every time they were pulled apart by outside forces.

But he also remembers every time they were reunited, because that's what they do. They're like a magnet and metal. Eventually they snap back together, right where they're supposed to be. Whether it was life, death, distance or yes, even time because their lives are weird like that, no matter what separated them, that pull was always too great to withstand. They could never avoid it before, even if they wanted to. Not until now, anyway.

Dean knows without a doubt that everything they've been through, everything they've done and everything they've been to each other has brought them to this point. Does he have regrets? Absolutely. But loving Sam more than anything else isn't one of them. He would never change that; couldn't even if he wanted to. He still doesn't believe in destiny and he now knows that this whole mess doesn't rest on any one person's shoulders. Sam shouldn't be the only one to have to clean it up. So, Dean isn't going to let Sam down now - how could he? Sam is about to make the ultimate sacrifice, but Dean believes that _he _is, too. Because seriously, what could be worse than being separated from Sam for all of eternity? He isn't sure how he's supposed to live without his brother, but he seriously doubts it's going to come to that. He's pretty sure today is the end for both of them, and Dean is okay with that because there is no life for him without Sam. Without his Sammy.

One thing is for sure, Dean will not leave Sam. He will be with his brother to the very end. And if by some cruel miracle, Dean lives through this, he'll never stop looking for a way to get Sam back. He'll keep the promises he made but he wouldn't be Dean Winchester if he just left his little brother to rot in that cage forever.

Dean is startled back to the present as Sam opens the door and climbs into his spot in the passenger seat, and quickly, Dean fumbles to put his sunglasses on before Sam can see the tears in his eyes. The door slams shut and he turns to Dean. "So, Bobby and Cas are following right behind us."

Dean nods almost imperceptibly, in a daze.

"You ready?"

Dean shifts the car into reverse and backs out before glancing over at his little brother. "No, Sammy. I'm really...really not."

_I'll feel my world crumbling_

_I'll feel my life crumbling_

_I'll feel my soul crumbling away_

_falling away...falling away with you_

The End


End file.
